


Jultz

by Columbarius13



Series: Jultz [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: 2015-2016 NHL Season, Angst with a Happy Ending, Blow Jobs, Canon Compliant, Coming Out, Emotional Manipulation, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, Implied/Referenced Homophobia, M/M, Masturbation, Moomins have become a thing I blame the commentors, Pittsburgh Penguins, Redemption, Slow Build, Slow Burn, mongooses
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-09-25
Updated: 2018-08-01
Packaged: 2018-08-17 05:26:13
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 58
Words: 177,162
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8132146
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Columbarius13/pseuds/Columbarius13
Summary: Justin Schultz knows he's a bad hockey player and is simply trying to survive on a bad hockey team when he finds out he's been traded to the Pittsburgh Penguins. Where he finds a boy, learns to love hockey again and gets to cuddle something large, silver and shiny, all while surrounded by the joy that is the Pittsburgh Penguins themselves, sarcastic goalies, bouncing mongooses and Captains in love included. Redemption arcs - don't you just love them?





	1. The trade

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CrazyJ](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrazyJ/gifts).



> I was angry when I saw Justin Schultz's first video interview with the Penguins; it was obvious the poor boy had had his confidence destroyed and the only thing he could talk with any sincere enthusiasm about was Sid and Geno's play. 
> 
> Watching the Stanley Cup parade, I was so happy for him; to come from a toxic situation where he was boo-ed by his own fans if he touched the puck, to where he's being cheered by hundreds of thousands of people driving through the streets of Pittsburgh... how do you do that in three months? What does it feel like? So, if you want to know, you write it... 
> 
> It's a heavily romanticised view of the hockey world, how I want the hockey world to be which probably means it's nothing like that, but the season details are correct. All games, all goals, game rosters, injuries most of the on ice events are all as correct as I can make them. Obviously, conversations etc are all invented. I've never played hockey, so had to invent/embellish quite a lot of background detail. Apologies for any inaccuracies there! 
> 
> Edmonton Oilers fans... I'm sorry. But your team broke Justin Schultz so they had to be the villains of the piece. I've nothing but respect for fans who stick through a team which is bad for a long time (I go through something like that with my own local hockey team) and I hope they come good soon for you. 
> 
> I'm going to post at weekly intervals until I've caught up with where I'm writing, but this is starting to look a wee bit epic.
> 
> Edited to add: 24 March 2017 wow pretty much 6 months since I started posting. Anyway, posting an update to warn I've just changed the rating from teen to Explicit.. from chapter 29 things start getting down and dirty.

He tries to feel numb; he wants to feel numb, to not feel the crashing disappointment, the aching pain of failure, the sob burning in his throat. He tries to block out the boos, to not hear the murmurs around him, to see the looks the guys in the locker room are giving him. He doesn’t want to hear the voice in his head telling him how useless he is, what a fuck-up he is, how he can’t play hockey; but his mind keeps replaying the moment over and over again where he hadn’t even been able to take a pass from Easty correctly, when Smith had run right over him - every time he shuts his eyes he sees the puck bouncing away from him, the puck hitting the back of the net, the look Talbo had given him even as the first of the waves of nausea had swamped him. What kind of hockey player cannot control a simple pass, can’t take the puck and control it and protect it? 

He’d known Coach’s comments about being embarrassed had been directed at him. But he’s way past embarrassment now and the team knows it. Somehow he’d stumbled through interviews with the press, not broken down, then found himself changing mechanically, trying to block it out. He’s leaving the locker room, walking down the corridor, no-one having spoken to him or acknowledged him since the game ended, just trying to get out of there when he hears a voice behind him. 

“Justin! Wait up!” He glances back; it’s Ebs, of course it’s Ebs. And the thought of the quiet determination from him, of his insistence that Justin isn’t a bad player, that’s enough to cause the tears to prickle in his eyes, his vision blurring and splitting like a kaleidoscope. He keeps walking, he can’t do this tonight. Somehow, someone being kind is worse. 

“Schultzy!” Ebs is more demanding now. Justin spins around, walking backwards. 

“Ebs… I just can’t… ok? Leave it!” He shakes his head, waving at Ebs, trying to stop the rush towards him. Ebs slows down, looking at him anxiously. 

“Don’t let it get to you!” Ebs keeps walking after him, but Justin doesn’t stop moving. He swallows a bitter bark of pain at that. Way past that now. That ship has long sailed. Having to stand and talk about his shortcomings to the press afterwards using standard hockey cliche “consistency… play harder… focus on hockey” has stripped any defence or protection he had managed to preserve. He wonders bitterly what would happen if he started to answer the questions honestly, but that’s the ultimate nuclear option and he’s just about hanging onto enough pride to not show that much weakness in front of a media that would simply commoditize it and wallow in his anguish. The fans might even enjoy it. 

“Ebs.. really, please. Not tonight. I.. I just want to get home.” There’s a plea in his voice now and he can still feel the tears unshed, threatening. Ebs looks at him sharply, really looks at him, then nods. 

“Ok,” he says, voice softening a bit. “You go home, get a good night’s sleep. I”ll see you at skate tomorrow.” 

Justin nods, resumes walking to his truck. He doesn’t even really remember getting home, trying to maintain his numbed autopilot. HIs post match routine is mechanical, blessedly not needing thought on his part. It’s only after, once things are done, and he’s lying on his couch, that the dead weight descends on his chest again, the knowledge of just how much he is fucking up and how no matter how hard he tries, it’s getting worse and worse, spiralling away from him in a maelstrom of contempt and anger and mockery. 

He doesn’t really recognise time passing as he lies on his couch, thoughts whirling around in his head. He thinks he dozes; knows he should go to bed, but it seems like too much effort. It’s easier to just lie there, letting the thoughts ricochet around and around in his head. Almost before he realises, his phone is vibrating with the alarm for morning skate. He glances at it bleary-eyed, shutting off the alarm as his tired brain registers he didn’t reset the alarm last night. He’d intended to get to practice early; he’s now going to struggle to get there on time. If he’s completely honest, he doesn’t want to make it. He wants to stay here, safely cocooned from having to face the world outside and the pain it brings him. But that’s not really an option. 

Somehow he makes it, sneaking onto the ice virtually last, generating a dark look from the coach. 

“So glad you could join us,” McLellan says watching him start to warm up. “I’d have thought that after last night, you’d have got here early to work on the things that didn’t work last night but really not surprised you didn’t.”

Justin flushes. There’s not a lot he can say to that - he knows any excuses will sound inadequate, so he ducks his head and keeps on stretching. 

Practice isn’t too bad; there’s a few pointed comments in his direction from the coaches, but he keeps his head down, keeps working hard, tries to focus on himself and his d-pair. 

Video is a shit storm however. 

Of course they spend time reviewing his error which led to the goal. In glorious HD, slowed to watch over and over again. And again. And again. He’s starting to wonder if this is going beyond normal when he catches a couple of sympathetic looks being thrown his way from one or two of the players - Ebs, Seksy. But he’s also aware of the glares coming in his direction too; he guesses it’s easy to be 19 and a wonderchild, full of confidence in your abilities and certain that all you ever need to do is try to make things right. Hell, he’d been like that once. And it’s not like Justin didn’t know what he had done wrong; by the time they start to go through it for a fifth time, he feels like that particular play is engraved onto this eye lids and even the guys who are glaring at him are starting to get restive. He keeps his face impassive, trying to look interested while inside he resolutely battles down his feelings, trying to achieve numbed out zen, watching the images in front of him without thinking about them. 

Fortunately, they move onto the Kings and the Ducks, and Justin is able to start focussing on the new information, things to think about for the next game, lose himself in that instead. 

Finally the session ends and the players start to make a break for it. McLellan clears his throat. 

“Justin, a word please?”

Justin feels his stomach tighten but nods in agreement, hanging back until the rest of the team have left the room. 

“Kid, you’re saying the right things but you aren’t doing them and I don’t get from you any intention to do so. We’re going to sit you for the road trip, give you a chance to think about what you need to be doing and aren’t.” McLellan is watching him closely; Justin isn’t sure what he’s watching for. 

“But..” Justin trails off. There’s no point in arguing with your coach’s view of you. He takes a breath. “Coach, I'm doing everything I know to play better!” 

McLellan shakes his head. “Then you need to do more; it’s not working. You’re hurting our team when you’re on the ice. I can’t let you keep on doing that. There are 20 other guys all giving their all and they don’t need you screwing it up for them.”

Justin feels like he’s been punched. To hear his own thoughts repeated back at him so brutally is like stepping into an ice bath, freezing shock shutting him down. 

“I’ll see you later on the flight. But we need to see a change in attitude from you.” And with that final pronouncement, McLellan leaves him blessedly alone, mind reverberating with what’s just been said. 

He doesn’t know what more he can do; he’s done everything the Edmonton coaches have said to do. But he gets on ice and sometimes he just doesn’t know what to do anymore, the knowledge of how bad he’s been causing him to doubt his own decisions. He tries to play to the system but now, when he feels like he can’t trust his own judgement, he doesn’t know if what he thinks he wants to do is right or wrong anymore. All too often it seems to end up being wrong….

The travel to LA kind of passes in a haze. It’s hard to maintain his usual facade of ‘great team player’ when he’s left wondering how many of them think he is letting them down. He certainly feels a coolness from them and it causes him to retreat. He manages to go out to team dinner though, fighting with himself as he really just wants to hide away in his hotel room. He’s bolstered through it by Ebs and Seksy who flank him either side, keeping him in the conversation, buffer him and stop him from drifting off. All the same, by the end, he’s fading fast. He just wants to escape, to not have to make polite conversation, to ignore the looks, the awkward silences. Fortunately the game tomorrow breaks them up early, give Justin a chance to escape back to the solitude of his room. It isn’t much easier there, but he’s not having to maintain a face, he can let himself relax as much as he is able to. 

Sleep eludes him again though, despite how little sleep he’s had recently. He manages a few hours, but wakes up, heart pounding and anxious, resorting to watching random reality shows to keep his mind from thinking and trying to lull him back to sleep. Cooking shows and DIY shows and anything else which catches his fancy and stops him having to think. 

Eventually his alarm goes off, and he’s able to begin his day again, girding himself for a road trip day. 

0--0--0

In the end, they lose to the Kings. Justin would feel guilty to say he felt relieved, but he can’t help breathing of a sigh of something - not relief - when the final buzzer sounds and his team dejectedly skate off the ice. They lost and it wasn’t down to him. 

There’s not much post game down time, it’s straight over to Anaheim for the back to back. Dinner is a quick affair, everyone too down on the loss and trying to shed it for the next day. Early nights all around, and Justin takes the preventative measure of trying to sleep with the tv on this time; he finds some weird equestrian event from Europe with horses jumping brightly coloured poles. The sounds are soothing however and there’s just enough randomness to keep his mind occupied as he tries to will himself to sleep. He does eventually, only to waken up way too early again, anxious and adrenalin buzzing, wide awake yet desperately tired. With nothing to do, he hits up the hotel gym, hoping for it to be empty at the ridiculously early time. 

It isn’t, and Justin’s eyes widen when he sees McDavid, pounding away on the treadmill. He nods at him, but doesn’t want to break his concentration. He’s obviously not the only one having trouble sleeping tonight. McDavid’s brows are furrowed as he runs like he has the weight of the world on his shoulders. 

He sets his own treadmill speed to a steady pace, something that will help him work up a good sweat, but he can maintain for a while, puts on his music and goes for it. At some point McDavid slips away, quietly, without a word; Justin doesn’t notice, too lost in his own music and thoughts. 

After an hour or so, Justin heads back to his room to shower and chill some more before breakfast and the start of another day watching his team play without him. 

0--0--0

It’s late when they get back to Edmonton, flying in on the wings of yet more defeat. This one doesn’t feel quite so bad and the atmosphere on the plane, while not fun, is not grim either; they fought through to OT and got a precious point. Nevertheless, there’s a certain amount of gratitude for an off-day tomorrow to recuperate and rest up a bit. California is not the worst of the road trips, but back to backs are never fun; even after being scratched, Justin is tired of travelling and he knows how the guys who played are feeling. The group splits up quietly, departing into the night. 

0--0--0

At least when Justin fails to sleep in his own house, he can get up and potter around in it, moving to his couch to doze through part of the morning instead. He’s woken up by his phone ringing. 

“Hey Justin, it’s Peter Chiarelli here,” and with that Justin’s heart sinks. “I hope I caught you at a good time?”

“No, it’s fine,” Justin manages to stammer. 

“Well I can guess you know why I’m phoning. We feel that it’s not working out for you here in Edmonton, so we’ve accepted a trade for you. I’d like to thank you for your efforts with us and wish you the very best in the future.” Justin waits to find out who he’s been traded to and then in a panic realises that Chiarelli’s going to ring off. 

“Mr Chirarelli - who have I been traded to?” he asks desperately. He really doesn’t want to have to go on the internet and find out. 

“Oh sorry. The Penguins. Good luck Justin.” and with that the phone goes dead. 

Justin puts the phone down slowly. The Penguins? He knew if a trade were coming, it would be to a team which had a hope of making the playoffs but the Penguins? What can he offer Sidney Crosby’s team? He’s trying to remember what he knows about them; bad start, coach fired, coming on hot now… he quickly checks and they’re sitting in a playoff place right now, only a wild card, but still a precious playoff place and way closer to the playoff than he’s ever been with the Oilers. A quick glance at the current roster shows no-one he’s played with on the roster. 

He’s not quite sure what to do next. Does he just turn up in Pittsburgh? It can’t be that simple. 

He phones his agent. 

“Yeah, we’ve just heard. Look, it could be a good thing? Change of scene, and the Penguins are contenders this year. They’ll be releasing the news anytime, so batten down the hatches, don’t speak to the media without speaking to me first. I’ll put out a standard ‘Looking forward to the new opportunity’ type thing for anyone who asks. Stay put, I’ll go and speak to Penguins. I think we’ll need to get a visa sorted though; you’re a Canadian, you’ll need a work permit to play for a US team, and you can’t enter the US before you get it. We’ll get started on that right away so we can get it in today. Still, it does mean you won’t be tearing across the country at no notice, it’s going to take a few days even if the Americans play ball, so you’ll get a chance to sort out your apartment there and pack and things like that.” 

Oh. His agent hangs up on him and goes off to do agenty things, leaving Justin at a bit of a loose end - restless and unable to settle. He calls his parents so they actually find out from him first, flicking NHL News on in the background to see when the news gets released. They take the news surprisingly well; happy for him to get away from the Oilers and onto a team with a chance of making the playoffs. Disbelieving their son will be playing with Captain Canada - he manages a wry smile at that. While he’s talking to them, news of the trade breaks onto NHL News and his phone starts to vibrate and vibrate and vibrate. A 3rd round pick and salary retention is what he was traded for. He’s not sure what he feels about that; like they don’t believe he’s worth what he’s paid. He’s not sure he’s worth what he’s paid at the moment though, and he tries to tell himself they’re a cap-strapped team. Maybe they couldn’t take him if the Oilers hadn’t retained some salary. And how keen must the Oilers have been to rid themselves of him to do that? 

He extracts himself from the call with the parents, promising to come see them soon. He might even get over while he waits for the work permit - it might be better than sitting around in Edmonton - but it is a nine hour drive. 

After hanging up, he starts flicking through the texts which have come in; messages of regret and well-wishing from some of his team mates. It starts to sink in, what being traded really means. He feels a tightness in his chest, knowing he’s leaving the only team he’s known as a professional, will have to fit into a new team, new team mates. Remembering the good times with his team, his friends, even if it has been crappy recently. 

His phone starts ringing (again) before he gets too maudlin; this time it’s his agent so he answers it. 

“Right, we’ve got the paperwork underway for your work permit. That should be coming through next week - Pittsburgh have to formally submit it on your behalf. Their GM - Jim Rutherford - is going to call you at 1:30 so don’t screen his call please, then some of their front office will be in touch about arrangements…”

He drones on for quite a while, talking logistics and arrangements and media handling (apparently their PR department will be in touch about approved interviews). Justin tries to take it all in, but his agent is obviously used to to shell-shocked traded hockey players as he finishes up what he’s been talking about by saying “And I know you won’t have got all that, so don’t worry, we’ll email you through a synopsis. But the important thing is not to miss Jim Rutherford’s call! This is a great chance to move on and show the league what you can do.”

Justin promises to take the call and manages to hang up. He does start to see why he pays the guy so much money; he wouldn’t have even known where to start. 

He makes a half-hearted attempt to start organising his stuff while he waits for the time to tick around to 1:30. When it does he laughs at himself when he realises he’s sitting at attention on his couch, waiting on his call, as though the GM can see him. 

On the dot of 1:30, the phone rings and Justin answers it carefully. 

“Hello Justin, thank you for taking my call, I’m Jim Rutherford, call me Jim,” the voice is older than Justin expected, quite husky, his tone warm and friendly. “I wanted to call to say how happy we are that we managed to pry you away from the Oilers and we’re looking forward very much to seeing you in black and gold in Pittsburgh. We feel you can make a real difference in helping us reach the playoffs and go in deep.” Justin finds his jaw dropping; Jim is saying everything Justin might have expected to hear in a press conference, but there aren’t any press here to puff their new signing off to. Justin wonders why he’s saying it. “We believe the game we’re playing in the Penguins is very suited to your skill set, and we’re delighted to add more depth to our blue line. We think we can go all the way this year.” Jim pauses; Justin guesses he’s waiting on a response. 

“Thanks Mr Ru… I mean Jim. I’m really happy to talk to you today; it’s a great honour to be traded to the Penguins, you have a fantastic hockey team and I’m going to play hard and try not to let you down.” Justin’s aware that he sounds nervous, he’s gabbling a little, but dammit he wants to create a good impression. 

Jim chuckles. “PR will love you if you keep giving perfect hockey answers like that, Justin. We know you’ve had your problems in Edmonton and while I don’t want to speak ill of the set-up there, we believe we have a team which can help you be the best you can be. I can’t make you any promises for beyond this season, but we want to give you an opportunity to show what you can do now. Now, the office will be in touch with logistics, and they’re in contact with your agent as well. We’ll get the visa sorted. Leave the paperwork to us; get yourself ready to come here and I look forward to meeting you in person.” 

Justin is kind of amazed, manages to stammer out another ‘thank you’ and ‘goodbye’ to Jim before he hangs up. For the first time, he feels a little bit of hope. The whole tenor of that conversation was so different from anything that’s happened in the past four or five months. It seems like the Penguins want him - really want him. He can’t get his head around that thought - why would the Penguins want someone like him? 

He starts to respond to his team-mates and friends and family before he gets too swamped. He also half-heartedly starts to go through his house, putting out stuff to pack to take and stuff to leave for now. He might as well keep the house until the off-season.

It’s early afternoon when his phone rings again. Something about the number seems familiar so he answers it carefully - he thinks it’s got a Pittsburgh code - ready to bail if it’s the press. 

“Hey is that Justin?” the accent is east coast Canadian, and it seems fairly familiar. But… 

“Who is this please?” he answers cautiously. 

“Oh, sorry, have the press been calling? It’s Sid here, Sidney Crosby. I got your number from Jim Rutherford after he called you earlier. I just wanted to call you to welcome you to the team and check if there was anything I could help with.”

Justin might be 25, a professional hockey player who has played against any number of world-beating hockey players, including Crosby himself, but he’s pretty sure that his eyes are just big love-hearts just now. Sidney Crosby is calling him! This day just cannot get any more surreal…. 

He takes a deep breath, tries not to gush. Confident pro-hockey player. Not fan-obsessed hockey groupie. 

“Sid, thanks for calling, that’s appreciated. I think it’s under control at the moment, I’m just kind of waiting for the paperwork to be done so I can come and join you. I’m so excited about that.” 

“The waiting must be hard,” Sid replies sympathetically. “It’s not what you expect after a trade. And we just want you here. You’ll love the team, they’re a great bunch of guys. Sully - Coach Sullivan - has got us playing real well. And Pittsburgh loves its hockey, the fans here are great.”

Justin has to laugh; Sid is trying to sell him on the Pittsburgh experience like he’s a free agent with a choice but he sounds so damn naively enthusiastic about it all. You couldn’t possibly rebuff that, it would be like kicking a puppy. 

“For sure, I’ve heard good things,” he says diplomatically. “I just want a fresh start to see what I can do and that’s what I’m getting with a great team which is contending.” He can almost feel the glow of pride from Sid. It actually reassures him - he knows Sid’s the golden boy, the poster boy for pampered NHL player, the franchise face, but he obviously cares deeply about his city and the team. But still, Justin’s a failed player who’s likely going in as a rental. They probably won’t treat him like Sid. They’d be stupid to treat him like Sid. The fans certainly won’t treat him like Sid - after Edmonton he’s hoping for apathy from them, anything else is dangerous. 

They talk for longer - it’s only after the conversation has ended that Justin realises how much Sid has learned about him. It didn’t seem like an interrogation, but he’s very subtly found out a lot about Justin in a short space of time. Even down to Justin wondering if he should go visit his family before the visa arrives. 

“Do it,” Sid had said instantly. “Once we get into playoffs, things get crazy intense. All there is is hockey and family time is very limited. And we want a good deep run this year, all the way to June and we think we can do it. Take the time now to see them because if things go how we want, they’re going to have to come see you and even then you’ll be focussed on the playoffs. So go see them now, while you have time.”

Justin hadn’t even thought of it in those terms; why should he, when he hasn’t ever played in the playoffs? But he’s speaking to someone who has reached the playoffs almost every year of his career, been to the finals twice and won the Cup once - he’s as much an expert on playoff hockey as anyone is. 

In the end, someone at Justin’s door had really ended the call. He’d answered, still on the phone to find Ebs there, who had simply waved in greeting. His ears had perked up however when he heard Justin say “Sid” and next thing Justin knew, the phone had been wrestled away from him. 

“Hey Sid, it’s Ebs,” Ebs had said without preamble, grinning widely. “We’re sending you a good guy here, one of the best, and you’d better look after him for us! If you can’t win him a Cup, I’m going to be mad at you.” He’d laughed at whatever Sid has said in response, handing the phone back to Justin. 

“Don’t believe anything Ebs says about me!” Sid had said almost immediately to Justin. “It’s all lies”. Sid had still been laughing as well, and Justin wanted to have that familiarity, that ease with him. 

Their conversation had ended soon after, Sid being just too polite to continue it when he knew Justin had company but assuring him that if he needed anything, anything at all, just to give Sid a call. “If I can’t help, I’ll know someone who can!”

He looks at Ebs questioningly when he comes off the call. “How do you know Sidney Crosby so well?” he asks. “He says I’m not to believe anything you say about him”. 

Ebs grins. “Well we did win a gold medal together at Worlds last year!” 

Justin waves his hand in apology; he really shouldn’t have forgotten anyone on his team actually winning something. Then he mentally kicks himself for thinking of Ebs as still being on his team when he isn’t anymore and fuck, that’s a hard thought. 

“I came around to see how you were doing, to find you on the phone to Sid! Moving on already? I thought you loved us Schultzy!” 

Justin can’t recognise everything he hears underneath that question. Ebs has tried to keep it light, but underneath it, there’s pride and sorrow, maybe anger too? He looks at Ebs. 

“I’m going to miss you guys,” is all he says, and yeah, the tears are suddenly there and he’s fighting them back because he’s not going to cry in front of Ebs. He hasn’t yet. He’s not going to start now. 

“Shit man, I can’t believe you’re going. We’re going to miss you too. But it might not seem like it now, but it’s going to be good for you. Sid’s a good captain, the Pens have a good reputation.” Ebs shakes his head. “They won’t throw you to the wolves like we have and then blame you for getting hurt. They play your kind of hockey. You’ll be good for them too.” 

“When did you get so wise?!” Justin says, semi-mockingly. He wants to believe Ebs, he really does, but he also doesn’t want to let on how much he wants to believe him. 

Ebs grins. “I’ve always been the brains of this outfit. Hallsy has the looks, Nuge is the...well he’s Nuge and I’m the brains! So anyway, as the brains, I came round to organise you as I bet you’ve been wandering around the house, thinking too much, not getting anything done.”

Justin blushes. Ebs really does know him too well.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've gifted this to CrazyJ as it was really a comment from them which took me beyond my wondering about what it was like to be Justin Schultz this year, to actually writing about him. Thanks for the inspiration! I know you aren't a Pittsburgh fan, and perhaps 40k+ words of detail about the Pittsburgh Penguins Stanley Cup season is not what you want to read - well tough ;)


	2. Arriving in Pittsburgh

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so I weakened and decided to put up the second chapter, where we see a little bit more of the Penguins... I feel like I'm cheating you a bit by saying it's a Penguins fic and then only having them on the other end of the phone in the first chapter.

Five days later, he’s arriving in Pittsburgh. He’d packed a lot into the last few days but his heart feels lighter as a result. He’s so nervous; but he’s excited as well. Nervous about his reception within the team, about the expectations on him. He’s watched a lot of Penguin games in the last few days and he’s still amazed that they want him. But he gets to play with that team, to train with a team like that and he can’t wait for that. It’s going to be hard, he doesn’t want to see their faces as they realise what they’ve got and how he’s not what they expected, but until they do, he’s just going to try and enjoy it as much as possible. He might end up being a failed NHL player, but he’ll have got to play alongside Sidney Crosby. 

He’s grabbed his bags off the belt, hoisting his hockey bag onto his shoulder with the ease of long practice and is looking around - they said there would be someone to meet him - when he hears his name being called. He looks around to see Chris Kunitz making his way towards him, grinning broadly. There’s another guy with him and Justin starts with surprise when he recognises Matt Cullen. He’d thought they would send an intern, not two of the actual team. 

“Hey Justin, nice to see you, I’m Chris, Chris Kunitz. Call me Kuni,” Chris says easily. “Sid would have been here in person but we’ve had to stop him doing that. It just becomes a zoo, particularly at this time of day. Everyone in Pittsburgh wants to talk to him it seems at times. For some reason particularly if he’s at the airport. It’s like they think he just comes here to hang out for fun! I don’t think you know Cully.” He jerks his thumb at Matt Cullen, like Justin wouldn’t know who he is. 

Cully grins at him, shakes his hand. “And we wouldn’t subject someone new to the team to Geno’s driving as their first experience with the team so that kind of left me and Kuni as the welcome party. Hope you don’t mind!” His smile is open and welcoming and Justin can’t help but respond to it. 

“No, it’s really good of you… you honestly didn’t have to… I kind of expected an intern to meet me to be honest!” Justin replies. The two guys exchange a look that Justin can’t read. 

“Man, you’re team. We wouldn’t leave you to an intern - that’d be worse than Geno’s driving!” Kuni smiles. “Anyway, we’d better get moving, phones are starting to come out.” 

Cully barks a laugh as he grabs one of Justin’s bags. “Told you you weren’t as invisible as you like to think,” he says to Kuni. He glances towards Justin as they start walking. “I know you’ve played in Canada mostly. Don’t underestimate how hockey mad this city is despite it not being Canadian or one of the original six. And Kuni likes to think he’s not recognised but he’s won the Cup for them - of course he is.”

“Pittsburgh is hockey mad,” Kuni agrees. “Actually just generally sports mad. But they love their hockey.”

“They’ve got a lot to love this season,” says Cully with a grin. “More to come too.” He speaks with a quiet confidence. 

“You guys seem to be really heating up now,” responds Justin. 

Kuni nods. “We,” and his nod takes in Justin too, “are. Sully - well you’ll hear lots from Sully - but he’s got us playing great hockey. System really suits the team, and when the hockey is just fun to play it’s easy to get into it. It’s all just working. We’re playing great hockey, the feeling in the locker room is so good right now. We just need to stay focussed and keep playing the right way.”

Cully laughs. “You’ll keep hearing Sully-isms cropping up - like that one. In fact it’s not going to be long before you hear the first one coming out your mouth. He’s very convincing, he’s very persuasive, we’re all being assimilated. But it’s working so we can’t mock too much.”

“We did need to stop Flower putting up a Sully-ism swear box though,” Kuni says. “Well, I say we - that’s Sid’s job. Managing Flower is definitely his job. That’s why he gets the big bucks as the C.” 

“I remember playing Fleury,” Justin says. “Does he ever stop talking? I mean the running commentary from him whenever we played you… “

“That’s Flower,” says Kuni proudly. “If he’s not talking he’s drinking or asleep.”

“At least he’s on your side now,” says Cully. “But he’s as complimentary at practice. I’m not sure which is worse; scoring on him or missing on him.”

“Oh, missing,” says Kuni unlocking a SUV and helping them settle the bags in the back. “At least if you score, while your ears are scorched, you know you’ve scored. He takes too much delight in the misses.” 

They pile into the vehicle, Justin despite his best efforts finding himself in the front seat. 

“It’s about 25 minutes to downtown,” says Kuni. “They’ve put you up in the Marriott which is very handy for Consol, but not so much for the practice rink at Cranberry. But Cully will pick you up tomorrow to get you out to Cranberry and they’ll have a loan vehicle for you there to use. Or they should do. That’s what I was told to tell you anyway.” He shrugs, to indicate he bears no responsibility whatsoever for the vehicle being there or not. Justin grunts acknowledgement, lets the movement of the vehicle wash over him, watching the scenery flow by. It’s odd to think he’s finally here. 

His thoughts are interrupted by Kuni clearing his throat. 

“Ummm, there’s just one more thing we need to explain to you before you meet the rest of the team,” Kuni says. He sounds nervous; Justin feels the first touch of panic. He’d thought it all sounded too good to be true, that they couldn’t be this accepting, this welcoming to someone like him. Well obviously there was a reason why they’d send team out to meet him. Now the other shoe is about to drop and he finds himself bracing for it. “It’s about Sid and Geno. You need to know they’re together,” he finishes. 

Justin’s brow wrinkles. “Like, they play hockey together?” he says feeling like he’s missing something. 

“In a relationship together,” says Cullen, smoothly taking over. “Like living together, together.” 

Kuni nods. “You need to know now, so if it is going to be a problem for you, you can get to the point quickly where it isn’t going to be a problem for you. And that would be before you meet them.” Cullen behind them, nods in agreement. 

Justin can suddenly see past the mask of Kuni’s friendly affability to the steely resolve that has made him a top line player in the Penguins for years. It is going to happen how he says, or things will get very unpleasant for Justin. In a way, it’s scary, but also it’s a relief, like he’s getting a glimpse of the real hockey player at the heart of the person. But what they are saying is so far from what he expected that he is almost shaking in relief. After the complicated situation with Ebs, Hallsy and Nuge, he thinks he can pretty much take anything of that kind in his stride - particularly given his own preferences. He’s used to keeping them quiet, but doesn’t mean he’ll always want to keep them quiet. 

“That’s no problem whatsoever,” he says firmly. “I’m not some kind of homophobe. Oilers had their own things going on that we didn’t talk about. No problem from me, people in glass houses shouldn’t throw stones and all that.” He pauses and thinks. “Who knows? Do all the team know? Obviously press and public don’t know and I’ve heard no rumours from the league… I don’t want to say something by mistake and out them to someone who doesn’t know.” 

It’s not his imagination; tension that he hadn’t realised was there bleed out of Cully and Kuni and Cully gives him an even broader grin. 

“Great question. Wish the mongooses had thought of that earlier. Yes, the team all know, the Penguins organisation all know. Some of the nicer, tamer local press know - it’s hard to hide it from the beat guys who travel with us but better to assume they don’t unless they mention it first. We do not want Rob Rossi from the Trib ever knowing. Aside from that, it’s only former Penguins that know. Fortunately, they’ve stayed close-mouthed.” There’s a snort of agreement from Kuni at Cully’s statement. In so much information - Sid and Geno?! - one thing has caught Justin’s attention and confused him. 

“Mongooses?”

“Yeah, they nearly fucked up royally, we had to engineer a press distraction to hide what they nearly said. And there’s only so many times we can do that in a season before someone notices the pattern,” explains Kuni, not really answering Justin’s question. If anything he’s just generated a lot more. 

“Ok, but what do mongooses have to do with Penguins?” 

“Oh sorry, it’s the nickname for the AHLers. Usually they’re the baby Pens, but this year they came up in a pack, they’re good at swarming the opposition, they’re lightning quick and they have teeth and bite. Geno was watching a nature documentary about a mongoose pack that chased off a crocodile and suggested it was like watching the baby Pens in action. Somehow, the name stuck. They’re the mongooses.” Cully is grinning proudly. “Don’t underestimate them. Everyone else in the league does and ends up regretting it. If I had a dollar every time I heard some variant of “Who the fuck is that Rust kid anyway?”, usually as he’s steaming away from them or stealing the puck, I’d have a lot more dollars.” 

“And Cully should know, he’s the papa mongoose,” cuts in Kuni, laughing. 

Cully mock growls at him before responding, “And proud to be so. It’s great fun playing with them. They’re irrepressible.”

Ok, Justin thinks he has that now. “But you generate press distractions to protect Sid and Geno?”

“Yeah, sometimes we have to,” says Kuni. “If we’re worried someone is slipping up or has slipped up, we’ll feed them a juicier story. I don’t know if you saw, but Geno ‘mis-spoke’ earlier this year about the team being mad at each other when we weren’t playing well? He went a bit over the top on that one - Jen wasn’t happy - but we thought Phil might have been heard saying something that could be incriminating. Wasn’t even mentioned after Geno’s interview!” 

“And the mongooses are not exactly blessed with much discretion. Fortunately we’ve managed to catch it in time so far. They are getting better though,” Cully says. Kuni shoots him a disbelieving look and mutters to himself. 

“Ok, so Sid and Geno, assimilation by Sully, mongooses… anything else I need to know about?” Justin asks. 

“That’s the main points covered for now. Everything else we’ll let you find out for yourself,” says Kuni with a wicked grin. 

“But honestly man, if you do want to ask anything, just do so,” reassures Cullen earnestly. “It’s been an age since Kuni changed team, he doesn’t remember what it’s like. Also, he’s going senile.”

“Fuck you, grandad!” responds Kuni. “So, who do you like to come out of the west this year Justin?”

With that the conversation moves onto general hockey gossip. Justin’s view from playing in the west is different from these eastern guys and the rest of the trip to his hotel goes pretty quickly so they’re soon pulling up outside. The bags are quickly loaded onto a luggage cart, and Kuni hands him a slip of paper. 

“You’ve got Sid’s number already. Here’s ours; call us for anything at all. I mean it - anything! If we don’t know, someone will. We’ll get you set up in the team WhatsApp tomorrow. Although if you want Sid, phone calls or texts are better. He doesn’t do well with WhatsApp; we generally have to wait for Geno to notice and tell him.” Kuni’s grinning in exasperation as he says it. 

“Thanks for coming to collect me - much appreciated. Although still think the intern would have been better!” Justin grins at them. 

“You were just hoping for a pretty young thing, admit it!” Cully says, hopping back into the SUV before Kuni drives off, hooting as he does so. Justin sighs as they drive off. That wasn’t as bad as he feared; they seem friendly and welcoming enough and oh my god… his brain wants to to melt at the information he’s been given. But he has a room to find before he can do that. 

Check-in is efficient; he has the feeling the staff know exactly who he is but are too professional to make much of it. He supposes being in sight of Consol means they are probably used to seeing hockey teams there, never mind this seems to be the preferred Penguin short-term accommodation. 

The room, or rather the studio, is fine; it’s obviously intended for longer term use as it has a small kitchenette. The small fridge is already stocked with Gatorade and bottled water and there’s some basic groceries in the kitchen. 

He looks around - for a couple of months, it’s going to be bearable, but he wouldn’t want to be in it for much more than that. He starts to unpack, debates putting on the television to catch up on hockey news but instead docks his phone and find a suitable playlist, getting drawn into the domesticity of his new, temporary, life in Pittsburgh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So mongooses. There is a place on the inter webs where a group of Penguin fans hang out and someone - not me - came up with the term to describe the Baby Pens this year and it quickly got adopted. They came up with it after seeing a nature documentary about mongooses seeing off crocodiles.... exactly as described. But watching those little mongoose happy beardy faces all year... it works so well I couldn't not use it =) But I don't want to pretend it way my invention either. So all credit to the inventors for that. And I hope they'd be ok with me usurping it like this. 
> 
> No more out of schedule posting!


	3. Meet the team

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin meets the team....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So it's almost Sunday right? And the Penguins won last night (And Schultz had a good game!)... so have another chapter! 
> 
> I probably should have mentioned, it is unbeta-ed. I've proof read it, but likely mistakes remain. Happy to correct if you spot them!

He doesn’t sleep well that night, anxiety building in his chest about his first practice the next day. It’s not as bad as how he was in Edmonton, but he feels like he checks the time every ten minutes, worried he’ll oversleep and nervous about what the day will bring. He just wants to get through it without any major fuck ups; he doesn’t want to show himself up in front of everyone so quickly. He knows it will come, but he wants a few days before they start giving him the looks he got in Edmonton, where the coaches start publicly distrusting him and the fans start reviling him. He knows they’ll have heard his reputation, that he’ll be on a short leash, have only a limited time to prove himself. He’s not sure he can, but he’s got to at least try. 

Eventually, after several hours of poor sleep, he gives up, flicking through the tv channels until he finds the NHL channel. They’re actually showing a re-run of the Pens loss to the Caps from earlier in the week, and despite himself, he finds himself tracking patterns of play, watching how quickly they get the puck from the D to the forwards on the break out, fascinated by a playing style where everything is about speed. 

His alarm pinging at him reminds him he does have other things to do today - like experience the Pens system firsthand. In not a lot of time, he’s outside - slightly early even - waiting for Cully to collect him. He’s not surprised when Cully drives up in another SUV; what is surprising are the three, small, serious faces, staring at him intently from the back seat. 

“Hey Justin, meet Brooks, Wyatt and Joey,” says Cully. “They’re my boys; they’re schooled at the Lemieux Centre, so I’ll drop them off with their teacher before practice. Boys, this is Uncle Justin, he’ll be playing with the Penguins from now on.”

Justin smiles and says hi, but the boys stare back at them impassively. There’s something intimidating about having three such young faces looking at him so hard. It’s the oldest who breaks the silence. 

“Are you the new hockey player?” he - Justin thinks Brooks - asks, face giving away nothing about whether he thinks this is good I am. 

“Yes, I am, today’s my first day with the team,” Justin replies trying for a tone that doesn’t sound nervous. 

“Where were you before?” Brooks replies. 

“I was with the Edmonton Oilers.” Justin is definitely feeling unnerved. 

“Ewwww they’re rubbish!” the middle one (Wyatt?) is horrified. “Why would you want to play with them?”

“Wyatt! We’ve talked about this before,” snaps Cully. “You do not tell NHL players their teams are rubbish.” He sighs. “And especially not when the Penguins have just beaten them. I explained to you then and I’m telling you now, it’s rude. Do not do it.”

Justin tries not to choke. He really, really wants to see any NHL player try to face down these three children’s stares as they are told by a small child what said small child thinks of their team. Particularly if they’ve just been beaten by the Penguins. Cully however catches his quiet noise and slides a quick grin of acknowledgement his way. 

“But Dad, the Oilers are rubbish! We’re telling the truth, how can that be rude?” 

“Because I’m telling you it is!” Cully manages to sound very patient but determined. Justin guesses that’s his Dad voice. Justin turns around in his seat to face the three kids behind him. 

“When I played with the Oilers, I was proud of them and the guys I played with, just as your Dad is proud of the Penguins and his team. Even if the team isn’t very good, no-one likes to be told that when you are trying your best to play for your team and your teammates and you’re proud of being on the team. Particularly if it’s true.” 

Wyatt considers that for a moment. “Oh ok, I see that. Dad, why couldn’t you have explained it like Uncle Justin did? Then it would have made sense.” He looks at Justin and beams approvingly at him. “I’m sure it wasn’t your fault the Oilers were rubbish though, I bet you tried really hard. And now you’re on the Pens, you can be proud of a team that isn’t rubbish, so you don’t have to worry about anyone telling you that again!” 

“Well, two steps forward, one step back,” sighs Cully beside him. Justin has to bite his lip at that, twisting back around in his seat. 

“Uncle Justin, what’s the grossest injury you ever saw?” It’s Brooks turn this time. Justin’s eyebrows shoot up, and he glances across to Cully for guidance. Cully just shakes his head, raising his eyes heavenwards, but makes no move to intervene, so Justin spends a lot of the rest of the journey inventing bloody but neither career-threatening nor life-threatening injuries with which to regale the gorehounds behind him. They look suitably more grossed-out and more pleased with each successive story. When they arrive at the practice rink, as they pile out, Cully turns to Justin. 

“I think with that, you could be their new favourite uncle. You might have set the bar high for yourself for later on though,” his eyes are crinkling in amusement as he speaks. 

He turns and speaks to the kids, now all kitted out for the day. “I’m just going to take Uncle Justin to see Mr Rutherford, then I’ll be right back.”

As they walk off, Justin has to know. “So go on then - who else has received Wyatt’s review of his team’s performance?” 

“Nick Foligno of the Blue Jackets.” And Cully grins at the memory. “Luckily he took it reasonably well; was more shocked than anything but did see the amusing side. With some of the other guys on that team, I’d have been more concerned, but despite the team, Foligno’s a nice guy. Wyatt’s got a real way of telling you how bad you are that cuts straight to the quick. He’s going to end up as a coach, that boy!”

Unfortunately, that reminds Justin of where he’s going next. The knot in Justin’s stomach suddenly gets larger, heavier. It takes an age and no time at all to reach the GM’s office. 

Cully knocks on the door and waits for a response, and then sticks his head around, pushing it wider as he does so.

“Jim, here’s Justin for you. I’ve just got to go drop the kids off and kit up,” he says, before leaving with a wink for Justin.

Justin makes his way into the room to find himself the focus of yet another stare. This one seems more assessing though. 

“Justin, nice to see you get here. Hope the flight in wasn’t too bad?” Jim’s on his feet, hand outstretched, so Justin shakes it, then sits on the indicated chair Jim waves towards. 

“Flight was fine, and the hotel’s good,” he replies. “Thanks for sorting that for me.”

“No problem. If we make play-offs - and I expect we will - we may try to help you find something a little less short term if that’s what you’d prefer. But it’ll be up to you, and we have a bit of time before we’ll know for sure if we are in or not.” Jim’s demeanour is grandfatherly. Justin doesn’t believe that for a moment; you don’t get to be a NHL GM unless you are prepared to be ruthless. 

“I’m not going to keep you long, just wanted to meet you in person, but I know you’ll be keen to get going with the team. I just wanted to re-iterate what I said when we last spoke. I don’t like bullshitting people - I like to be as honest as this job lets me be, so everyone knows where we stand. You’re here because we think we need more defensive depth in the stretch. You’ve got some of the skills we want and we think in the short term, we can help you work on the skills you don’t have or play you in ways where that’s not a liability. But we probably don’t have the cap space next year to qualify you as an RFA, unless I make some trades, and you’d need to prove yourself as being better than you have been for me to want to do that.” He pauses, looks at Justin consideringly, then continues. 

“That’s not to say there may not be opportunities in the team next year as a free agent; that will depend on you and how the team does over the next couple of months. But we do really believe that Oilers was not the best situation for you and that by bringing you into a team which plays a style which fits your strengths better, you’ll get a chance to remind the league why you were so valued coming out of college. So for me, it’s a win for us as we get a puck-moving defenceman and add depth to our blue line, and it’s a win for you, as you get to move away from a situation which was hurting you, to one where you have a new opportunity to move on and move past the Oilers. Even if we don’t or won’t or can’t sign you next year, we hope you’ll have been able to show that you were more than you were with the Oilers which can only help you in free agency. Does that seem fair?”

Justin finds himself nodding. It does hurt, to hear it annunciated like that, but at the same time, Jim is being very up-front about their motivation. And, this move to the Penguins could help him, so long as it’s not just that he is a bad hockey player. But he’s got to keep hoping that maybe he isn’t, that maybe he can find a way to play better. If he can’t maintain that hope, he has nothing. 

“I think it’s fair. I do appreciate you telling me where I stand with the organisation, and for giving me this chance to have a fresh start. As I said, I’m going to work as hard as I can to take it and show you that you did the right thing in trading for me.” Justin believes it as much as he is able, trying to push conviction into his tone. 

Jim regards him for a moment then smiles with satisfaction. “That’s always what a GM wants to hear,” he jokes. “We never want to be told our trades were bad ideas!” He stands up. “I’ll take you down to introduce you to Coach Sullivan. But if you have any problems, then you can always come to me about them. You’re a part of the Penguins now, and we want to make sure you’re looked after.” He makes his way to the door, Justin following in his wake. “So, who do you think will come out of the west this year?”

0--0--0

“Give the door a push please Justin and grab a seat, it’s great to finally get you here!” Sullivan is fairly slow spoken, as though every word is considered and chewed over before it leaves his mouth. Justin does as he is told. 

“It’s good to be here Coach,” he replies. He pauses for a moment, knowing he needs more than that. “I was really happy to hear the Penguins traded for me. It’s great to come to a contending team and I hope I can help out.” 

Sullivan smiles slightly at something, then looks interrogatively at Justin. “Do you know why we traded for you?” Justin gapes, caught out by the terrible direct question - one that’s been at the forefront of his thoughts since he first heard about the trade. I mean, obviously Rutherford has just told him on a strategic level, but he doesn’t know why Sullivan wanted him. 

“Well… I … thought”, he gets that far before Sullivan cuts him off mid sentence. 

“I’m going to be really honest with you - the guys will tell you that I like my players to know exactly where they stand,” he says. This is more what Justin has been afraid of - a GM’s appraisal can be very different from a coach’s appraisal. He feels sick, waiting to be ripped apart. 

“We think you’re a better defenceman than you’ve shown in Edmonton; we think they’ve been using you in the wrong way for the skills that you have. We think that those skills will fit in great with what we are trying to do here with the Pens and that you could be a real asset to us down the stretch as we get into play-off territory so long as we use you in the right way to make sure we are making the most of your skills and shielding your weaknesses.” He takes a sip of coffee, all the time watching Justin for his reaction. It’s pretty un-nerving. 

“But I said I’d be honest; we don’t think you are a top pair player. We think you could possibly be second pair, with time and more development. A good development team, we have, and we’ll be turning them loose on you. But we don’t have time. So at best, you’ll be playing as 3rd pair and you’ll find your ice time will be down a lot from what it was in Edmonton. At the moment we have 8D and six places; your place on the team is not guaranteed. But we want that depth for the playoffs; when and if players go down, we want the next guy ready to step in, understanding what he needs to do and how we play.” He looks at Justin, consideringly. 

“If you can’t take the cut in ice time, if you can’t accept there are things about your game you need to improve on and commit to working with our coaching team, if you can’t go from being considered one of the best in Edmonton, playing as top pair, to one of the guys battling for a place on the team here, I need to know that now. Because I can’t bring in a guy who is wrong for the room at this stage. But what you’ll get out of it is a chance for a clean slate. The chance to play playoff hockey and, if things go to plan, play for the cup. We will throw you to our coaching staff - and they know a thing or two about bringing on young players - and see what they can do with you in the time we have. And if you can do that for us, then we’ll show Edmonton how they should have used you and how they messed up in using you the way they did. We’ll give you a chance for a better deal next season than you would have had coming out of Edmonton with baggage.”

He stops, takes another sip from the mug at his elbow. Justin is almost holding his breath. This is like nothing he had expected. “We’ve said all along that you have skills we can use. Our game - and I expect you’ve had the time to watch some of our games now - is based around how quickly we can move the puck into transition and up to the forwards, and you are great at puck moving. You can skate with or without the puck and I think you have good offensive instincts and we want to bring those out and encourage those. We rely a lot on our D coming into the rush, to break up the backcheck and stop them getting the puck out and we think you can be a real asset there. But I need to know what you think of this, whether you are willing to do what we want of you or whether you’ll be resentful of the cut in ice time and change in role?” His entire focus is on Justin now, and Justin tries not to squirm. 

“You said you were going to be honest Coach; that’s a lot more honesty than I expected,” Justin meets honesty with honesty. Sullivan smiles slightly at that, still watching him, oh so hard. It’s hard to meet his gaze, it’s so intense. “The loss of ice time - moving down the pairs.. That’s not important right now. I know I was fucking up in Edmonton. I don’t know why, but I couldn’t stop and I want to be able to stop. I want to be able to play good hockey again, hockey I’m proud of. And I’m willing to work so hard - so fucking hard,” Justin’s voice cracks, embarrassingly, as he realises how much emotion is in what he is saying, how much he means this and wants this, “to get back to that again. So I guess your answer is yes. I am so fucking willing to do what you want if you can help me.” 

The smile from Sullivan lights up the room. “It’s my job as coach to bring out the best in you. If you’re doing everything you can and it’s still not working then it’s not you that’s failing, it’s the coaching team. We need to put you in a position to succeed and figure out how to do that and what’s going wrong if it’s not working. ” 

Justin blinks at that. He hadn’t even thought of that. He’d thought it had all been on him, but the truth of what Sullivan is saying makes him stop and reconsider. Trying to say the coaches bear some responsibility too seems like trying to make excuses for his own failings, but it’s a coach saying that. He tucks that thought away for examination later. Sullivan is still speaking and he needs to pay attention. 

“We’re not going to play you tonight. We probably won’t play you for a few games, until you know a bit more about how we play. That’s not a reflection on you - I’d be reckless to send you out there when you probably can’t even name the rest of the guys on the team, let alone know our calls and plays and on ice comms. So since we have the extra D, we’ll use that luxury to get you used to our system a bit more before we play you in a game. That doesn’t mean we’re going to go lightly on you in practice however! I’m going to turn you over to Sid now; you need to go get kitted out before the practice and meet the team.” He turns to his desk, using the internal phone to make a call, speaking to someone, asking them to let Sid know that Justin’s free now. 

Justin blinks a bit at the thought of Sid showing him around; surely that’s not Sid’s job, he must have better things to do than babysit a new player. They must be able to find someone less important to show him around. He doesn’t have long to wait before there’s a knock on the door and Sid’s head appears. 

“Hey Sid, we’re done here - take him away!” says Sullivan cheerfully, waving Justin in Sid’s direction. Justin follows Sid out the room. 

“Hey man, I don’t mean to be a bother. If you point me in the right direction, I’m sure I can find my own way. You must have a million better things to do than run after me,” Justin says nervously. Sid gives him a look he can’t read, then a crooked grin. 

“Nope, nothing. So as punishment I got left on new guy duty! Nice to meet you properly, did you have a good time with your family?” he replies easily. They chat for a few minutes, Justin following where Sid directs. He stops them before a door. 

“So this is the practice changing and locker rooms; we’ll change into practice kit, then I’ll take you to Dana Heinze our equipment manager and he can go through the rest of your kit with you. He’s got your skates at the moment, wanted to check on how you liked them sharpened before he did it.”

Justin takes a deep breath as Sid pushes open the doors.

“Hey guys, this is Justin; you saw the trade, the paperwork’s sorted, he’s with us now,” says Sid by way of introduction. The room is about half full, various players in different states of undress. He gets a grin from Cully and Kuni but before he can say anything to them… 

“No, no, no,” says a voice from the corner. Justin turns to find Marc-Andre Fleury looking at him, kit half on. “Justin is not a hockey name. It’s too prime-ministerial. I’m not using Justin. What’s your hockey name?”

“Schultzy,” replies Justin. 

“Of course it is,” replies Fleury with a bright smile. “Hockey names. So original. Ten bucks everyone please.” There’s a general grumble from the room and he looks around at them with disdain. “So what - I do my research. You should know better than to bet against me by now.” He looks back to Justin. “I’m Flower by the way.”

“As you’ll just have seen, don’t bet against him. He cheats outrageously. That is your one and only warning. We give it to everyone. You’ll still find yourself doing it. We think he has weird goalie mind powers that force us to do it,” says Sid, handing over $10 to Flower. Flower just laughs at him. 

“He just weird,” grumbles a voice from the corner. Sid smiles over at the figure bent over, fiddling with his socks. 

“That’s Geno.”

Flower cuts in, “He’s not worth speaking to this morning. He’s particularly grumpy since Sid made him get in early for practice.” 

“Fuck you Flower!” Flower rolls his eyes in a ‘see I told you manner’, before going back to putting on his own kit. 

Sid glances around the room. “Your change space is here, with the other D. This is Dumo and Olli. Any sign of Tanger yet?” he says to the two guys he’s introduced. 

The dark one - Dumo - shakes his head. “Nope. But he’s got time yet. Poo and Dales are changed already and in the locker room. Haven’t seen Colesy and Ben yet this morning either.”

Sid nods in acknowledgement. “Let me know when you’re ready and we’ll go see Dana.”

Justin turns to his stall, where his under armour is waiting for him. He’s aware that Dumo and Olli are watching him unobtrusively as they go about changing too. So he introduces himself, starts to make small talk as he changes, finding out about them. He’ll be working with these guys - hopefully. They’re both pretty young - Olli still looks like a boy, but holds himself with the weight of a guy much older, more serious, more focussed than Justin could ever have believed. 

Justin is just about ready when the changing room door opens with a bang and a group of young guys come rushing in, all laughing and chattering animatedly and loudly. Instantly the tone of the changing room changes, the energy in the room picking up. Olli grins at them. 

“Mongooses!” is all he says by way of explanation. “They always cut it to the last minute.”

“We heard that Olli!” the shortest of them exclaims in their direction. “We do not, it was Rusty’s fault this time, he couldn’t find his phone.” But now their focus is caught by the D corner. 

“Ooooh, new guy!” says one of the others, and suddenly like that Justin finds himself surrounded. He sees exactly where they get their nickname from. They’re all bright eyed and bushy-tailed, curiosity and inquisitiveness all over their faces. Justin gets the feeling he’s a shiny new toy. 

“You must be Schultz? Schultzy? Justy? From the Oilers” says the shortest one. “I’m Shears, this is Rusty, Murrs, Tommy, Scotty, Sunny.” He indicates each in turn, as they nod in acknowledgement of their names. 

“Schultzy,” confirms Justin. “And yes, I am.” There’s an outraged grunt from one of the group - Rusty?

“Fuck Flower, why do you always have to be right?” he exclaims across the room. 

“Because guile, experience and wisdom outwit youth every time. That’ll be $10 each please. Except Murrs of course.” The answer is immediate, floating back across the room at them. 

“You were… ,” starts off Sid, only to be interrupted by Murrs. Justin blinks a bit at that - that was Sidney Crosby he’s just spoken over. The captain. 

“Yes, we were warned. That’s why I don’t take Flower’s bets,” and Murrs looks despairingly at the rest of the group. 

“And the other reason why I’m always right is because goalies are always right,” Flower grins ferally as he says that. “As Murrs has just adequately demonstrated.” 

There’s a general round of disputing of that from across the room. 

“To show that’s wrong, I’m going to score on you today Flower!” Shears exclaims. If anything, Flower’s expression becomes even more sharklike. 

“Would you like to go double or quits on that Shears?” he inquires, managing to make it sound innocent. 

“No.. no, I’m good to pay the bet as it stands!” Shears stammers, caught off guard. “I’m not that stupid!” 

“I’ll take that one though, Flower,” says Sid. 

“Me too!” exclaims Geno. 

Flower shakes his head, sadly. “Sorry gentlemen, one time offer for Shears only.” Geno growls something unintelligible in response, only just audible above the laughter and chirps coming from the rest of the changing room. 

The mongooses make their way to their stalls, just as someone else come flying through the doors - Justin recognises Kris Letang who makes his way to the stall, shedding clothes with a single-minded purpose as he does so. 

“Nice of you to join us Tanger!” says Sid, looking ostentatiously at the changing room clock. “Even the mongooses beat you today.” 

“Alex had hidden the car keys!” emerges from the region of Tanger’s head, now hidden by clothes being pulled off. 

“I’ll catch you up with Schultzy in a bit then - we need to go see Dana,” Sid replies, only a little pointedly. 

Tanger freezes. “Oh fuck, sorry.” His head emerges. “Yeah, nice to meet you, go see Dana, I’ll say hi properly when I’m not in such a rush!”

The equipment manager exudes a quiet competence as he goes through Justin’s equipment set up, what it is, what he prefers to use. He’ll be making do in the meantime; apparently no-one else uses his set up so they don’t have anything in Penguins colours in stock. Someone on his team is sharpening his skates to his preferred specification while they go through it all, so he’s done surprisingly quickly, taking his skates and making his way back down to the locker room to pad and skate up. 

The locker room is the hallowed space of any NHL team, and even here, in the Penguins practice facility, it shows. It’s light and bright, wood panelled and spacious, with the logo centre of the floor and lit in the ceiling. It feels important. It is important and going into it for the first time makes Justin feel more like on the team than anything else he’s done so far. 

By numbers, about two-thirds of the team have made it through; Tanger has even beaten the mongooses, but then, given his single-minded approach to changing versus their ongoing talking and joking with each other, Justin isn’t surprised. 

“Hey I’m Tanger,” Tanger says when Sid brings him over, like he hasn’t already just met Justin. There’s a twinkle to his eye which shows he is firmly pretending the rather chaotic first meeting didn’t happen. “Nice to have you in the team Schultzy. The glory hounds over there will deny it, but the D is the engine house of the team and if we don’t do well, they don’t do well. So, great to have another good D-man in the team.” 

“Really great to meet you,” Justin replies, deciding to play along. “It was a surprise being traded, but I don’t think I could have come anyplace better.” Tanger grins broadly at that. 

“Well, I’m biased, but I think you’re right,” is all he says, simply. ‘You’ve met Olli and Dumo already, let me introduce to you the rest of the D.”

The D are a mix of veterans and youngsters. He’s already met two of the youngest; Pouliot, whose nickname really is Poo, is another one. He also seems to be part of the mongooses, a title he accepts with a ducked head and a blush. 

Lovejoy is direct and open, joking about his own relative lack of skill. At the same time, Justin’s not sure he quite believes he’s as bad as he makes out. 

Colesy talks. And talks and talks and talks, light and easy and funny but Justin wonders if he’ll ever stop talking, even on the ice. 

Dales is warm and relaxed, like nothing ever flusters him, his movements calm and unhurried. 

Tanger is clearly their leader and there’s so much respect for him; but not deference. He’s teased and chirped as much as everyone, the rest of the D delighting in the fact he was last to practice today. 

In fact, as Justin reflects, in a team where it could be so easy to be deferential, where there’s so much reason to be deferential, the locker room doesn’t seem to do that much. He watches Sid interacting with Shears, Cully and Rusty joking together. Edmonton wasn’t particularly deferential - the team structure was too odd, but certainly there was more than there is here. Olli nudges him. 

“What is it?” Olli says. “You’re thinking something about the team.” And maybe Justin should keep such thoughts to himself, protect himself until he’s found his way a bit more, but Olli doesn’t look like there’s a duplicitous bone in his body. 

“It’s just… that’s Sidney Crosby and they’re treating him like one of the guys, as if he’s a fourth liner.” 

Olli laughs, but there’s no mockery in it - it sounds understanding. “Yeah, we’re all a bit like that when we come in here at first. He really doesn’t want to be treated differently. There are times when we defer to him - some of them he doesn’t even realise, but don’t worry we’ll warn you about those. Things like places he prefers to sit, his routines that we don’t interfere with - on pain of Flower or Tanger! But most of the time, it’s a relief for him to be able to shed that and just be one of the guys. He’s our captain, and we don’t forget that, and we can’t quite forget who he is, but we can do what he wants and remember he’s also our team mate. And if Sid won’t do that, no-one else is going to do it either as they’d look pretty stupid. So there’s not a lot of seniority crap in the team. And having the mongooses come up pretty much en masse - well they were a bit awestruck at first, they still are at times, but they’re getting over it quickly.” Olli is grinning as he finishes. Justin can see why - from what he’s seen of them ‘awestruck’ is not the word he’d have chosen to describe the guys who make up the mongooses. Raucous maybe. He remembers Cully describing them as irrepressible and he can see that too. 

For want of any instruction to do otherwise, he follows Olli out onto the ice, along with most of the rest of the team. As he comes up towards the entrance onto the ice, he’s aware of a lot of suppressed laughter, and looks thrown in his direction. He hunches his shoulders, lump rising into his throat, all too aware that this is his first practice and he hadn’t expected the looks quite so quickly. Dammit, he hasn’t even got onto the ice yet. 

But as he gets onto the ice, his attention is snapped by a suit - his suit! - suspended over the ice, gently twirling around to reveal “NEW GUY” taped across the back. His shoulders relax and he can’t help laughing, a feeling of happiness bursting through him, chasing away the disappointment and shame he had felt moments before. He hasn’t realised how much he had hated being cold-shouldered in Edmonton until this moment, when a prank being played on him suddenly makes him feel accepted and part of the team. You don’t bother doing this to someone who isn’t your team and as he skates, starting to warm up, trying to figure out how it got up there and how he’s going to get it down, he realises that they had a very tight window of time to get his clothes from the changing room to the ice. This wasn’t a solo effort; they’ve gone to some effort to make this work. Timings… so Sid must have been involved, acting as the witting or unwitting accomplice to keep him out of the way. And then any of the guys in the room when he came in...He glances around quickly to see who is watching his reaction, but in fairness, most of the team are, including the guys he hasn’t met yet. 

He just doesn’t know them well enough to work out who could have done it; not the goalies, their kit takes too long. Not Sid, although he likely knew. Not Tanger, who’d been so late. Anyone else though. He kind of doesn’t care either. What’s important was that it was done, they treated him like a team mate even though they don’t really know him, not who did it. 

He wonders how long it will last though.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yes, someone did steal Justin's clothes at the practice, in real life. All of the team were like 'no, no, no, don't know anything about that' which immediately just made it look really like Flower. The fact he was grinning like a smug cat when he denied it didn't really help proclaim his innocence either. 
> 
> If you are wondering, I don't know if this is the same universe as my other series. At the moment I've done nothing which would either make it positively so, or make it so it couldn't be so. So it's kind of up to you and I don't know if I'll ever resolve it. I just can't help but write Flower as a sarcastic, pranking, adorable arse so there will be similarities. I suspect I might decide when we get to the Capitals series!


	4. First practice

Practice is tough, despite starting off on a good note. He’d thought he was fit; until he sees how fast the Pens are, even in practice, even with a game later that day. He’s gasping at the edge of the rink, trying to get enough oxygen into his body, to force it to keep up, to not look like he’s slow and unfit and not ready for this when Colesy pitches up beside him, grin on his face. 

“Yeah, it came as a shock to us at first!” he says. Justin notices with jealousy that his breathing is not nearly so laboured. Justin grunts a question at him. Speech is hard when breathing is your priority. 

“When Coach Sully came in, he insisted that we practice at the full on game speed the entire time. Wanted to get us used to making plays pretty much instantly, moving the puck up before the other team has time to react. Just about killed us at first as well. Don’t worry you get used to it. Or you die!” He grins at Justin as he skates off, preparing for the next drill and Justin has to follow, still gasping, as they’re paired together. 

The other big change is how they play. Justin had been told over and over again to take the time to consider his plays, that he was playing too carelessly, not thinking enough about what he should be doing. 

With the Penguins it’s different. Pucks are to be moved quickly, decisions taken almost instantly. Eventually the D coach pulls him to one side. 

“You’re thinking too much,” he says. “Trust your instincts. Most of the time, they’ll be good, that’s how you’ve made it this far. We’ll work with reinforcing what you should be doing so it becomes second nature, but we don’t want you freezing on the puck while you try to decide what to do. And if you do something wrong, you’ve done something wrong and we play on and that’s what the team is there for so that one mistake doesn’t cost us much. When we play like this, we try to do our best, we move quickly and sometimes it will go wrong; but we try to manage the risk so even if it does go wrong, someone else will cover. That’s what we’d like you to concentrate on - just trusting your instincts.”

Justin has to stop his mouth hanging open during this talk. It’s so much the opposite of what he was doing in Edmonton; that they should put so much trust on him to play the right way is somehow shocking. It’s also scary. He’s not sure if he trusts himself to do it, let alone having the Pens coaching staff trusting him as well. But he doesn’t want to let them down either. For the first time in what feels like a long time, he feels the desire to do well. Not just to not fuck things up, but to show the coaches that their trust won’t be misplaced by doing well. It feels more positive than the soul-sucking fear of failing that he’s been using to try to motivate himself in the dark days at Edmonton. Without really noticing, he squares his shoulders, nods his head at the D-coach and lifts his head, skating off with new purpose to run the drill again, trying to shut out the clamour of indecision and possibilities, focussing on what his gut says. 

At the end of the practice he’s caught by Sully. 

“Good job today Schultzy, I liked the way you were working,” he says. The glow of pride that flushes through Justin is kind of embarrassing; he’s not five and he should be well beyond feeling happy at this coach’s praise, but he’s had so little of it recently, he can almost feel it like the sun beating down on his back. “I’d hold you back for longer, but PR want you to do media today.” He grins. “And you’ll need to get your clothes down. But if you can come in earlier tomorrow, we’ll get you doing some drills with Poo before main practice. But seriously, good job today. And good luck with your clothes as well,” he chuckles as he walks off to collar one of the mongooses. 

Justin finds the Pens PR lady, Jen, waiting for him, as she takes him through the media requirements for today. It seems a bit more relaxed than in Edmonton; but then he’s not having to stand in front of the cameras explaining yet another game where he screwed up. All he’s got to do is make good noises about being in Pittsburgh, and it’s going to be pretty easy to do that. In practice, it’s even easier - the media loved the prank too, so there’s quite a bit on that. It’s very easy to praise Sid and Geno as players, and he’s able to say what’s expected without messing up or saying controversial. At the end though, it feels like he’s run practice again though. 

Olli looks over at him sympathetically. “Hey that went pretty well though from what I heard,” he says. “They have their moments here, but the local guys are pretty decent. Not like what Phil faced in Toronto!”

“Edmonton could get pretty tough too,” is all Justin can find to say in response. Olli frowns; not at him, he doesn't think, more in thought about tough media. “Say, do you know how I can get my clothes back down?”

“Yeah, I think we need to go up into the overheads though. I think I know the way, let me just finish changing and I’ll show you.” 

Changing is not a luxury Justin has until he can get his clothes - there’s no point even showering yet. But he remembers Olli is playing that evening. “This won’t knock out your routine?” he asks anxiously. 

“I don’t think it will take long,” reassures Olli. “It’ll be fine. I’m not like Sid, I like to be flexible anyway.” 

He’s actually pretty quick, but them leaving together catches the attention of the two of the mongooses. Justin swears he can see their ears prick up. 

“Are you going to get Schultzy’s suit down?” asks Rusty. “Can we come? We’ve not been up there yet!” 

Olli shrugs. “Up to Schultzy,” is all he says in response, ducking his head. 

Justin knows he would be stupid to turn down this overture. “The more the merrier,” he says. “Just don’t fall off!”

Olli does know the correct way to the walkway the suit has been suspended from and so it’s not long before they’re clambering out onto it, looking out over the rink. 

“Woaaaahh! Nice view!” exclaims Shears, blinking in pleasure at how pretty it is. The lights have been turned down, now practice is over, and the glow is from the ice up into the darkened roof. 

“Would be a great place to watch a game from,” confirms Rusty. “Why haven’t we come up here before? This is as nice as Consol!”

“When were you up in the roof in Consol?” asks Olli. 

Rusty laughs. “They pulled the same trick on me last year when I came up from the Baby Pens for a few games. I’d to get up there to get my stuff back. Had to go up with one of the rink guys though. They didn’t seem to want to trust me up there by myself.”

“I can see why,” Justin says, to a laugh from Shears and Olli, and a muttered “Fuck you!” from Rusty. “But it is really cool up here.” He glances at Rusty. “Who did it to you?” 

“Fuck man, I don’t know. I was just a kid, and all overawed. I always thought Flower and Duper but I don’t really know for sure and no way was I asking or making a fuss,” Rusty answers, face screwed up in remembrance.

Justin shakes his head. “Can’t have been Flower, he has too much kit to deal with and it was such a short window to get my stuff.” He pauses. “Anyway, what do you mean, you were just a kid?! You’re not exactly a grizzled veteran now!”

Olli laughs at that, to a look of disgust from Rusty. “All I can say is my lips are sealed - but you’re underestimating Flower!” Olli then says through his laughter. 

Shears gasps. “Olli, you know?! You have to tell us! You can’t leave us hanging!”

“I don’t know who did Rusty last year, I was on IR then. But yeah, I can guess who took Schultzy’s stuff today. But you know, can’t betray a teammate!” Olli is grinning at them all, smug in his superiority. 

“Oh c’mon give us a clue!” exclaims Rusty. 

“I already have,” Olli replies, smiling to himself. Justin looks at him, brow furrowed. That means it was Flower then. He doesn’t understand how Flower was able to do it though in the time he had, but bends over, untying his suit and pulling it up to the walkway. 

They stand for a moment looking down at the cool, perfect ice beneath them. Then Shears kind of shakes all over. 

“C’mon, game later, we need to get moving!” he insists. Then his eyes grow round and he glances at Justin. “Sorry man, didn’t mean to…. “

Justin shrugs. “I’m not ready to be out there yet. As coach said, I’ve no idea who even half of you are!” 

“That’s ok, we’ve frequently asked who the fuck is Bryan Rust?” Olli says, deadpan to a burst of laughter from both Shears and Rusty. Justin doesn’t get it, thinks it must be an in-team joke he’ll hopefully get in time. 

“Yeah, usually after I’ve busted my ass carrying the puck into the offensive end as you D are too fucking lazy to do it!” Rusty starts to move off to the end of the walkway and the stairs back down, the rest following him. 

“You just don’t appreciate the beauty and skill in a perfect outlet pass. With age will come wisdom!” Olli says calmly. 

Shears makes a disparaging noise. “You’re younger than we are!” Olli sends an innocent smile back at him in response, and Justin suddenly notices he possesses some awesome dimples. He’s so serious looking much of the time, that it’s hard to imagine him dimpling up - and yet there they are. He finds himself wanting to make Olli smile like that again, so he can see them some more. He ducks his head at that thought, trying to push it back. Now is not the time nor the place for stuff like that. He’s here to prove he’s a good hockey player. 

Back in the changing room, they quickly change, the three guys who are playing heading off to eat and nap. Justin chases down the office where he does a pile of paperwork that his agent hadn’t been able to do, meets with the trainers, makes up some more sticks, gets ID cards, gets the keys to the promised loan car and is finally ready to head back to his hotel. He still finds it weird being a scratch; his body thinks it should be preparing for the game, but there’s nothing for him to do. He does get a message part way through the afternoon though. 

_Hey new boy! Let’s be scratches together! I’ll pick you up around 5 and can give you the Consol tour?_

He’s just reading it when a new message comes in. 

_Oh yeah, it’s Tishy btw. Jeff Zatkoff. Sorry. Forgot you wouldn’t have my number yet!_

Justin is about to reply…. But then caution kicks in and he quickly texts Cully. 

_Does Tishy’s cell # end in 1965? Just had a text from someone claiming to be him, wanting to set up a date_

Fortunately he doesn’t have long to wait:

_Yeah that’s him. Doing something classy and upmarket I hope!_

Grinning, he replies _He says he’s got tickets for a hockey game this evening. Some hotshot team is in town_

_They’re over-rated. Have fun, be safe, and don’t do anything you don’t want to do_

Justin laughs. Cully has so just practiced his dad lines on him. Changing conversation he goes back to Tishy’s text:

_That’d be cool. Thanks!_

Tishy responds quickly. 

_No probem. Why has Cully just texted wishing me good luck and telling me I’ve got to be home by 11 and to be safe?_

_Sorry your message is breaking up!_ texts back Justin, laughing to himself. 

It’s just normal team banter, but it makes him feel more grounded.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we are, the first glimmer of Justin/Olli. Did I tag slow burn? I've added it in now! I hate writing slow burn, I'm so impatient. I keep having to remind myself they've only known each other two weeks (which is where I"m working currently) and it's slow burn....


	5. Kings and Tantrums

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the first game that Justin's seen the Penguins play live. He may be in the press box, but he's getting closer to the team all the time. If only he felt worthy of it. 
> 
> With added Duper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy weekend! Happy new season! Happy Pens win! 
> 
> Have something to take your mind off Sid's concussion.... a longer update than the one last week.

Tishy collects him as promised and in no time at all, they’re in Consol. It’s so similar to Cranberry - even the locker room looks the same. Justin looks covetously for his own jersey, hanging up neat and pristine. He runs his fingers over it lightly, taking a moment to imagine himself wearing the unfamiliar colours. 

“It’ll look good on you,” Tishy’s voice breaks into his reverie. His face shows understanding. Justin tries to shrug off the bittersweet pang. It’s not the familiar copper and blue but it’s still a jersey he’ll play hard for. 

“I’m not sure if black is my colour,” he replies lightly. “I’m worried it will make me look washed out. Still, it’s meant to be slimming…”

Tishy snorts. “At least you don’t see the blood!”

“Good point! Not that goalies have to worry about blood..”

“Yeah we do. Our D-men seem to like to try and bleed on us,” He’s smiling easily. “It’s disgusting man!”

Justin mock growls. “Well remind me not to try to protect you in the crease!”

Tishy just shakes his head, still smiling. 

They make their way to the player’s lounge, where the team is starting to trickle in, game faces on, grabbing a pre-game snack from the caterers. It’s all quite calm and quiet and focussed - well until the mongooses come bouncing in, loud and chattering at each other. But even they seem subdued and for the first time, Justin can see some of the fierceness and the sharpness that had earned the group the name. 

He makes quiet conversation with a few guys, but he’s chary of disrupting routines he doesn’t know yet, so he hangs back, gives guys space. He chats to a few of the forwards he hasn’t really spoken with yet; Phil Kessel is quiet and shy, yet clearly adored by the team, waiting on his sly and droll interjections into conversations. Bones is deep and thoughtful, intensely focussed. And Fehrsie is the grease to that particular conversation, chatting away with Rusty, dragging Phil and Bones - and Justin himself - into the conversation, friendly and open and warm. 

But gradually they drift off again, to go change before the game to get warmed up. Eventually Tishy wanders over. 

“Let’s go watch the warm-ups from the bench,” he says. Justin nods in agreement so they make their way to the ice. 

It’s not the first time that Justin has seen Consol ice, but it’s his first time as a Penguin. It’s like seeing Consol with fresh eyes and he does like what he sees. It doesn’t have the same number of banners as Rexall Place does, but it has enough. 

The skaters are on the ice, doing warm ups. Tishy nudges Justin. 

“Look the mongooses are playing ‘tease the bear’,” he says, pointing towards Geno. They get points every time they’re able to cut around him. Game stops when he growls at them.” 

Justin gapes at that and watches; sure enough, he watches Kuhnhackl cut around Geno, giving him only a couple of feet of space, flashing grins around the ice towards Shears and Rusty. 

“Does Geno know?” he asks. 

“We don’t think so; nor does Sid. Most of the rest of the team have realised something is going on. And Sully spotted it on the second warm up; told them that if anyone was injured doing it they’d be benched for the rest of the season. They don’t cut it quite as fine as they used to.” 

As Justin watches, Shears makes the next pass, almost but not quite jostling Geno. Justin can’t hear what is said, but he sees a flicker of irritation over Geno’s face, sees words exchanged and spots the crestfallen looks between the guys; game over. Justin shakes his head, trying to think of doing that as a young player towards one of the games’ elites… just can’t. They are irrepressible. 

0--0--0

Once the game starts, he and Tishy adjourn to the press box. It’s pleasant enough and some of the Pens in-house media team is there. Tishy steers him though, in the direction of an older guy wearing a suit. His posture, his body, all scream hockey player. 

“Hey Duper, this is Schultzy,” Tishy says. The name triggers Justin’s memory. Pascal Dupuis; forced to stop playing due to blood clots. Duper smiles in welcome as Justin greets him and shakes his hand. 

“How are you finding Pittsburgh?” Duper asks. 

“It’s kind of all a whirl at the moment,” Justin replies. “I haven’t had much of a chance to get out and about.” Duper nods sympathetically. 

“It’ll get better,” he says confidently. “You’ll find your feet and discover what a great place this is.” Justin isn’t sure if his waving hand is meant to represent Consol, the Penguins or the entire city but it could be any of them. “I’m excited to see what you can do with the team. And if you need anything, let me know. I’m kind of acting as player liaison, will be happy to help. It’s too easy to get lost in the focus on the playoffs and ignore when something isn’t right or someone needs some help.” 

Tishy grins. “Duper helps keep us right. He always was team dad, and now he’s got the title to go along with it! Don’t know what we’d do without him.” There’s a look which flashes across Duper’s face at that which Justin struggles to categorise - sad? Proud? Bittersweet? He doesn’t know, and doesn’t want to push at hurts. 

So he settles down alongside Tishy and Duper to watch the game. The hockey is captivating; watching it on tv had meant he was limited in what he could see happening on the ice. Now, it’s laid out in front of him and he spends almost as much time watching what happens off the puck as what happens on it, watching the line changes and the bench interactions, the positioning of the team on the attack and on defence. In this, he’s helped by both Tishy and Duper, pointing out nuances to moves and plays.

It’s tight through the first period, neither team able to get an advantage. But the Pens are so fast. He really understands now why they practice how they do - fast puck, fast feet, fast hands, fast thoughts. Skating speed is fast too - as he watches Hagy retrieve an overhead yet again, but it’s not just that, speed is in everything they do. He finds himself excited to be here and to be being asked to play like that - and then his confidence crashes again as he watches Olli make a great outlet pass or Tanger making the perfect defensive play before joining the offensive rush. Why did this team want him? He can’t do that and he can’t play like that. All he can do is fuck things up. 

He tries to focus on what Sullivan said to him about why they had brought him here; the positive things he had said. But it’s hard - it feels meaningless, like words said because they should be said rather than actually be meant, in the face of actually experiencing how the Pens play and comparing it with his own error ridden play on the much slower Oilers. He doesn’t feel up to it. He knows he’s going to fuck things up again. 

He shifts uncomfortably in his seat, trying to use the physical to distract his thoughts, stop them going down that route. But his movement catches Duper’s attention and something of his thoughts must show on his face, because suddenly he’s being scrutinised closely by Duper. 

“Ok?” he asks, puzzled look on his face. 

“Yeah, fine,” says Justin trying to believe it himself. “Just you know… trades… it’s hard to take in sometimes.”

“Takes a bit of getting used to,” agrees Duper sympathetically. Justin feels like Duper’s seeing more than he wants him to see. “Let’s go out for lunch tomorrow; I’ll show you downtown Pittsburgh after optional skate?” 

Justin’s torn. Spending time with team mates is good; but he’s concerned why Duper’s making the offer at this time. But he also can’t see any way out of it. 

“Yeah, that’d be cool. I don’t want to put you out though?” 

Duper shakes his head. “It’s no problem!” He quickly confirms arrangements with Justin, and they go back to watching the dying few minutes of the first period. Duper leaves before the buzzer, moving quickly. Justin watches him go. 

“He likes to go and let the team know how it’s looking from up here,” explains Tishy. “He can’t be part of it down there, so he does what he can from up here. C’mon, let’s go and see how they’re feeling in the locker room.”

He leads Justin down through the maze of corridors, ID badge clearly showing, to permit access to the off-limit areas. Justin finds the feel of the locker room familiar for an intermission. Sweaty players re-hydrating, checking equipment, going over tactics and strategies, Sully telling them what they need to do be doing in the second period. He doesn’t have much to say to them, too new to the team to feel comfortable chatting during the intermission. Tishy is over joking and laughing with Flower and Murrs. Duper is making his way around the room, checking in with players. 

“Hey Schultzy!” the call pulls him out of his own reflections, that feeling of not fitting in he’s been struggling with. It’s Cole. “Enjoying the game?” He’s smiling, it’s not a pointed question, it’s not a reminder that Justin is in the press box while Cole is on the ice. Colesy is reaching out to him to check on him and Justin can’t help but grin back at that. 

“For sure,” he says, “You were looking good out there. Although I do think you could have got a hat-trick by now.”

Colesy laughs. “I’m saving myself for the third period,” he replies. “Way more fun to let them get settled and comfortable and then WHAM! - take them down.” 

“Well we can certainly tell you’re trying to let them get settled and comfortable,” Dumo chimes in from behind them. 

“Fuck you Dumo, I’ll have you know I’ve spent the entire first period wrestling with Nash in front of the net!” 

“Once,” protests Tanger quickly. “You did that once!”

“That was enough to make it feel like all period,” Colesy responds stoutly. “Besides Flower appreciated it, he told me so.” 

“What did he say?” 

“Thank you for moving that asshole Colesy!” 

Flower laughs. “No, I said ‘thank you for moving your ass’! It’s pretty big to see past.”

“Just doing my job!” Colesy is undeterred. “Glad I could help you out Flower. That’s what us D-men are for. Let you goalies take a nice break in the net. We don’t want you to over-exert yourself, you might bust a fingernail or something.” 

“Fuck you!”

“Right,” a commanding voice suddenly resonates across the room, “before that devolves anymore, let’s think about what we’re doing in the next period…” and Sully, just like that, has taken charge of the room and focussed them back on what they need to be doing. 

Justin slips into his stall. It hadn’t felt right to sit in it - it feels less right to remain standing in a room where most are sitting as Sully runs through the key points for the next period. Once he’s done, the room feels energised and engaged. Justin wouldn’t have thought it would feel different from the Oilers’ room at such a time, but this feels more - he struggles to think of the word - unified? Confidence is certainly higher too and there’s a belief in this room he’s never experienced in the Oilers. 

“You heard the Coach,” says Sid into the silence. “Let’s get this done. Rangers could barely keep up with us in the last period, let’s show them full on Penguins hockey!”

There’s a growl of agreement from around the room and just like that, guys are going through their own rituals before they hit the ice. Justin follows Tishy and Duper to cheer them down the corridor and make their way back to the press box. Somehow, it’s harder being up there for this period having been in the locker room like that, felt the camaraderie and been part of it for a short, precious time. 

The start of the second is back and forward, both sides but then the Penguins start to put more pressure on the Rangers, swarming them and cutting off their time and space. Fleury’s having to pull out some saves, but Pens are getting more time in the Rangers end zone. Suddenly Tishy’s pointing at Lundqvist. 

“Watch him!” 

Just as Justin’s gaze make it there, Lundqvist is pushing on his own net… pushing it over… 

“What the fuck?” asks Duper a beat ahead of Justin. 

“He was pissed the ref wouldn’t blow play dead after his own man collided within him, so that’s how he got the stop of play.”

The crowd are going mad - cheering and booing and yelling. Refs are clearly calling a penalty for delay of game. 

“Look at Flower,” says Duper. “He’s loving that!” 

“For sure,” says Tishy. “You just don’t do that.”

Even at the distance they are from the ice, they can see that Flower has a huge grin on his face as he stares down the ice at Lundqvist - who is now looking anywhere but back at him. The whistle blows for the puck drop and like that, the grin is gone and Flower is focussed back on the game and the puck. 

They don’t manage to score on the power play. It actually becomes a swapped power play when Phil is called for slashing. 

“We need to keep the pressure on Lundqvist,” Duper says. “He’s unsettled, they need to get under his skin.” 

“For sure,” says Tishy. 

It’s as though the team hear them. Geno manages to ‘accidentally’ knock the stick out of Lundqvist’s hands as he skates by as he’s retrieving a puck, nearly causing a fight on ice. Duper is grinning. 

“Hey, Geno’s learning subtlety, finally! Maybe Kuni’s been teaching him.”

However things settle down after that….until the Rangers score, towards the end of the second period. 

There’s a round of ‘Fucks!’ from all three players in the press box. But they needn’t have worried - it seems to only motivate the Penguins more. Sid scores less than a minute later, bouncing a rebound off Lundqvist’s skate which trickles over the goal line tiredly. 

Then Geno on the very next shift gets a rebound redirected by Kuni and shoots it straight past Lundqvist. Things in the press box suddenly go a lot more positive, particularly when Yandle gets called for interference on Horny. 

Horny makes the most of it on the PP, tipping Phil’s shot; Lundqvist never has a chance. The crowd are going wild, and the mocking chants go up around the arena. In less than three minutes, the Pens have seized control of the game. 

“Does he come back?” asks Duper to Tishy, looking at Lundqvist. 

“After that period? Maybe not. That’s one he’ll want to forget.” 

0--0--0

Tishy’s prediction - half hearted though it was - proves correct. Lundqvist is not in net; he’s not even on the bench. Injured, runs the rumour. Duper snorts at that one, rolls his eyes. 

“We’ve got this, boys” is all he says though as he settles back down. 

Duper’s prediction - supremely confident though it was - proves to be correct. The Penguins batten down, shutting down the Rangers offence, until in the dying minutes, the Pens break through to the empty net, Phil setting up Geno who passes it back to Phil to take the shot. 

“Fuck yeah, that’ll do it!” crows Tishy. 

Justin’s on his feet alongside them, cheering with the rest of the crowd. Watching this team - his team now - win feels good. 

The locker room also feels good. Flower is grinning like the cat that got the cream. And the bird. And more cream. And chased the dog out of the yard. And beat up every other cat in the neighbourhood. 

Sully finishes the short debrief, congratulates them on the win, reminds them it’s just an optional skate tomorrow and heads out the door. There’s a cheer at his words, the mongooses immediately start discussing where the post game venue is as other guys move around the room, heading for showers, changing, just enjoying the post game time, going to do media. Rusty catches Justin watching them. 

“Schultzy, you’ll come? You have to, it’s your first chance to go out with the team!” Rusty has surprisingly puppy-dog-like big brown eyes that are hard to resist. Besides, Justin doesn’t want to resist - drinks with the team sounds like a much better idea than staying in his hotel room, and probably ending up watching the Oilers play. He nods his head in confirmation and Rusty gives him a brilliant smile, rubbing his hands together in a way that has his AHL team-mates watching him in alarm, while he assesses the room. His eyes stop on Haggy, consideringly. 

“Haggy, you’re coming out with us aren’t you?” Haggy nods and waves his hand in acceptance, deep in conversation with Phil. “Cool! Bring Phil… Phil? You coming man?” More because it stop his name being shouted across the room while he’s trying to have a conversation, Phil agrees. 

“Horny! Are you coming out? It’s Schultzy’s welcome to the team drinks… Haggy’s coming too!” 

“Yeah, for sure, text me the place, I need to go change first,” Horny confirms. 

“Olli - you in? Colesy?” Rusty’s voice is gaining in confidence and Olli is quick to agree, sitting back down in his stall, hair still wet from his shower. Colesy’s face has a mulish look however, but Rusty’s ready for it. “Oh come on man, you can’t leave your d-man hanging here!” With a sigh of resignation, Colesy agrees, to a fist pump from Rusty. 

Justin settles back in his stall to watch. There’s a tidal wave in action. 

“Hey Cully, are you coming out with us tonight?” Rusty turns his puppy dog eyes on his centre next. Cully looks at him steadily, giving nothing away. “You know you can’t trust me and Tommy out alone together! We need you to keep an eye on us.”

Cully holds his face steady a moment longer and then grins. “You know, one day someone won’t fall for it. But yeah, I’ll come out. Because you’re right, I really can’t trust you guys out together.”

Bones and Kuni are rounded up too, Duper surprisingly joining in to persuade Kuni who tries to argue he’s too old. At that, Cully snorts and raises a brow and Kuni concedes. Dales is mugged coming out the shower, agreeing easily. 

“Hey Tanger, we’re having welcome drinks for Schultzy tonight - you don’t want to be the only d-man to miss it, do you?” Rusty has either done this before, or he should be devising plays for the team given his sound use of tactics and ability to find weak points. Tanger looks torn. 

“I’m not sure I can,” he says regretfully. There’s a brief flash of stubborn determination across Rusty’s face and then somehow, his eyes get even bigger, more soulful. Justin almost laughs - he’s actually head tilting. 

“But it’s for Schultzy, Tanger, to make him feel welcome in a proper team. Show him how much we want him to be here. You can’t miss out on this! Just come for one?” 

Olli snorts beside Justin. “As though anyone can ever only go for one,” he says, sotto voce in Justin’s direction. Justin glances over to him, grinning in response. His hair is still damp and curling softly now and those dimples are back. 

“Yeah, ok, so long as it’s only one, or Catherine will kill me!” Tanger is shaking his head, knowing he’s just been played but unable to argue. 

Flower comes charging into the locker room at that moment, positively dancing with glee. Half the room immediately stop what they are doing to stare at him with alarm. 

“Fucking yes!” he crows, arms outstretched. 

“Flower, what have you done?” asks Duper, suspiciously. 

“Simply given my thoughts on tonight’s game to a fine upstanding member of the local media.” Flower replies, innocently. 

“Oh fuck, does Jen know?” Sid says, walking back into the room to catch the last, having apparently finished his media also. 

“She approved it!” Flower confirms. 

There’s a lot of glances shared around the room and raised eyebrows at that one. 

“Did she know what you were going to say?” continues Sid. 

“We discussed it - well in broad outlines at least,” says Flower. He sits down in his stall, sorting the last of his kit. 

“And did what you actually said bear any relationship to the broad outline you discussed with her?” Kuni’s taken over now. 

“Of course, I always listen to Jen!” 

“Listen to her, but not do what she say,” growls Geno. Flower smiles beatifically. 

“So go on, what did you actually say?” Tanger prompts. “After all this, it had better be good.”

“I might have suggested that Lundqvist’s behaviour was a little immature,” replies Flower innocently. 

“Flower, was ‘immature’ the actual word you used?” Sid is frowning now. 

“Well I might have used the word ‘babyish’,” he replies. “But they mean the same thing.” There’s a ripple of gasps, snorts and laughs from around the room. 

“So let me get this straight,” says Tanger. “You called Lundqvist a baby tonight?”

“No.. no … not at all! I would never insult a great goalie like that. I called his behaviour babyish. Completely different,” he says airily, waving his hand around. Then he throws back his head and dissolves into laughter. “Teach that fucker to think he can come to my barn and act like he owns it!” Even through the laughter, there’s a hint of steely anger in it. 

Even Sid is grinning now, as most of the rest of the room enjoy their goalie getting one over on Lundqvist. Rusty is not put off his quest for long however. 

“So Flower, we’re going out - are you coming out to celebrate fucking with Lundqvist and welcome Schultzy to the team?” 

“Yeah great idea!” replies Flower. “Who else is coming?”

“Everyone except Sid and Geno!” says Rusty proudly. 

“What?! Why aren’t they coming?”

“Not been asked!” says Geno. Sid is looking obstinate. 

“And you need to be asked? Of course you’re coming. It would be rude not to come out to welcome Schultzy. Would make us look like the Oilers - no offence” immediately responds Flower. 

“None taken,” Justin feels obliged to mutter, even though it looks like no-one actually cares. He feels like Rusty might have learned at the feet of a master though, and has cleverly invoked said master for the person with the league wide reputation for not doing things like this. Still, Justin remembers something Ebs had said about Sid in Prague. That… that could be useful. 

Justin looks over at Sid. “Ebs told me about your partying capabilities in Prague,” he says. “Surely a friendly drink with the team can’t hurt after that.” 

Sid actually pales slightly, while Geno bursts out laughing. 

“He was sworn to secrecy!” Sid says, shocked. “Ebs shouldn’t have… he couldn’t…” He flounders to silence, aware of the entire locker room, listening in with hugh interest. 

“You can’t leave us hanging now!” says Flower. “What happened? Oh, you can tell us over drinks!”

Sid closes his eyes, anguish on his face. “I’m not telling you over drinks. We were celebrating, that’s all you need to know. But ok, I will come out for drinks.” He opens his eyes. “You guys really don’t fight fair.”

“No, of course not,” says Flower. “And the force is strong in this little one, I have much hope for him,” he ruffles Rusty’s hair in passing, as he heads out the locker room to the showers, to the sound of an indignant “HEY!” from said little one. 

“We stand no chance when Rusty and Flower combine!” mutters Olli beside him. “Either by themselves is bad enough, but together?! Just give in and accept the inevitable when they start. They’ll want to know what dirt you have on Sid though - he gave in way too fast!” 

Justin’s kind of awestruck actually. He can’t imagine any rookie - even McDavid - doing that in the Oilers room, taking over and forcing the entire team out for drinks. 

“Oh yeah, I’d forgotten you played with McDavid,” responds Ollie as he gets to his feet, and Justin realises he must have said that out loud. “Is he as good as they say he is?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ironically the goalie of my local professional team pulled a Lundqvist this week. His, of course, was entirely appropriate although he also got a delay of game.
> 
> I realise the pacing of this is probably off, and it's going to continue to be off for two major reasons - 1) I can't seem to write concisely about anything and 2) while there is progression and movement forward, it's pretty slow and periodically, we'll go backwards a bit as while it would be lovely for everything to be positive, that's not real life... so there will be good times and bad times. So apologies if it seems to be crawling and meandering along... it does.
> 
> But thank you to all the lovely people for commenting, subscribing and kudosing - I hope it's living up to your expectations. The number of subscriptions has really surprised me (in a very good way!)


	6. A curious Flower

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In which alcohol is consumed and Flower wants to know...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Shorter one this week; I haven't written as much as I wanted, so I decided to split the chapter slightly earlier than I'd originally planned as otherwise I'm catching up with myself too much. So this week's is a little bit slower but does have some progression going on... And nice things for Justin! 
> 
> And apologies, I seem to have a thing for stuff happening in cities that no-one knows about. Unlike Vancouver (for those who read 'What doesn't kill you makes you stronger'), there is a chance I'll let you find out what happened in Prague. Just not yet! Happy to take predictions though (and yes, I do know, in rough at least).

Justin supposes the next morning he could feel worse. He hadn’t been drunk enough to forget to hydrate when he got in, and the last of his hangover is washed away by the extra Gatorade and Advil he had left out by his bed precisely for the purpose. But it had all been worth it. A chance to be out with his team, to actually feel part of them. And, unlike his recent time in Edmonton, he didn’t feel bad about his place in the team; he’s not fucking anything up - yet - and he hasn’t let anyone down - yet. So he could - and did - spend an evening with his new team mates, enjoying their company and just being team in a way he hasn’t managed much of since the start of the year in Edmonton, when it became apparent he hadn’t improved, only got worse. 

Olli’s prediction had been correct however. Flower had sidled up to him part way through the evening, extra beer in hand which he’d handed to Justin. 

“So… Prague?” he’d said casually. “Care to tell me about that? Sounds interesting!”

Justin had laughed, shaken his head. “Sorry Flower, not mine to tell.” 

“It would be quicker and easier just to tell me now,” Flower had responded. “You’ll fight me, you’ll lose, it will feel so much worse for you if you make a big deal of it and end up telling me anyway.” 

The calm, certain way he said it was a bit alarming. Justin had just shaken his head again, trying not to give him any more ammunition. 

“You might think you’re protecting your captain - and that is an honourable thing to do, and in any other circumstances I would commend you for it,” Flower had continued, almost without a break. “But on this occasion it’s for the good of the team that I find out what Sid got up to in Prague when we weren’t there to look after him and guide him and protect him.” Justin caught the quick, assessing look he was given to see if he was being taken in by this claim. 

“You mean you want to know so you can give him shit for it?” Justin had asked. Flower had just grinned at his remark. 

“Oh, so you’re one of those… a non-gullible, non-naive d-man?” He said, unashamedly. “I’ll just have to try harder.”

Justin had flicked his gaze across the bar, trying to find an out, a way to change the subject, only to have Olli meet his gaze. Something in his face must have given what was happening away because he’d disengaged from talking with Kuni and Sunny and made his way to them. 

“Flower, are you hassling Schultzy?” he’d asked accusingly. 

“Me? No, of course not!” Flower had responded casually as though it was the last thing in the world on his mind. 

“That’s the normal definition of ‘hassling’, not whatever justification you’ve come up with to say that what you’re doing to him isn’t hassling,” Olli had clarified, sternly.

“Olli’s another of those non-gullible, non-naive d-men,” Flower had said conspiratorially to Schultz. “It’s very aggravating, Tanger has been a bad influence on you. When I was your age..”

“Which was at least two centuries ago!” interjects Olli.

“Rude! When I was your age, I accepted what the vets told me as gospel and did what they wanted for the sake of the team. Young players today have no respect!”

A hand suddenly reaches out, clasping Flower around the back of the neck. 

“Just like goalies today have no respect for their captains either?” says Sid, hauling Flower in. “You wouldn’t be trying to find out about Prague would you?”

“No, of course not,” Flower had answered like nothing could be further from his mind and that Sid was hopelessly stupid to even ask.

“Flower!” Sid had managed to sound sternly reproachful. 

“Well, maybe just a little. It’s for your own good though!”

“Uh-huh” and Sid had managed to cram so much scepticism into those two syllables that Justin had actually laughed. “Tanger was looking for you; Shears was refusing to accept the cultural superiority of French Canadians. I have no idea why!” 

“Well in that case I shall leave you Philistines and carry on my god-given mission to educate the masses!” 

Justin had watched him stalk off and turned to Sid. “I don’t actually know much about Prague,” he’d said by way of apology. “Just Ebs mentioned something about your party being outrageous.” 

“It was,” cut in Geno, wrapping an arm around Sid. “Just as well Prague police are hockey fans. Because if anyone else had,” and Sid had moved quickly to cut him off. 

“That’s enough Geno! The police were very professional and that’s all we need to say.” He’d smiled at the memory though and then looked at Justin. “You won’t be able to convince Flower of that though.”

“Do the opposite,” Olli had suggested. “The first time you tell him, make it so outrageous it has to be a lie, and then tell him something different every time he asks.”

There had been an awed silence from the group. 

“That will drive him crazy,” said Sid reflectively. There’s a gleam in his eye which suggests that wouldn’t be unwelcome. 

“Olli’s evil genius! Who knew?” said Geno. “Now we’re on guard though.”

“You wouldn’t mind?” Justin had asked looking at Sid. Sid shakes his head, still obviously enjoying the thought of how annoyed Flower will get. 

“No, so long as you tell me what you tell him. Hope you’re creative Schultzy - no pressure on you!”

“It’s only for a few weeks until the season ends!” Justin had objected. 

“Or three and a half months,” Sid had countered. Justin had blinked at the certainty in his voice. Three months… June…. He’d been surprised at the sudden feeling of hope and want breaking through him. 

“Do you think we can?” he’d asked, wanting the reassurance. 

“Yes,” Sid had said with certainty. “But it’s hard you know. You need a lot of luck as well… injuries… puck luck. We can play well enough - we’re only going to get better. But not everything is within our control. But I think we can. This year… it feels different.” Geno nods along next to him. 

Justin had swallowed. These guys had been there, done it before, know what it takes. To hear them saying that…. It had seemed huge. 

“But one game at a time,” Sid had continued with a wicked glint, knowing he’s repeating hockey cliche. Olli had raised his beer in salute to that and they had all joined in. 

It had been a good night. 

0--0--0

Optional skate is not so good. ‘Optional’ doesn’t really apply to him at the moment so he had taken care to remember that last night, hence the easily manageable hangover. Plenty of time to get drunk once the season is done. 

Someplace between yesterday and today he had forgotten how fast they train, but he fights on, listening to the coaches, trying to do what they want, determined to learn system and processes and by the end, he can feel it clicking, over-writing the Oilers in his head. That feels good. The feeling like he wants to throw up part way through - not so much. 

At the end of the practice Sully looks at him. 

“Still doing great kid,”and his voice is enthusiastic and positive and Justin can’t detect any lie in it. He still finds it hard to believe it’s not faked. “Not tomorrow; but maybe playing on Sunday. We’ll see how they and you get on.” Justin ducks his head, to hide the grin breaking out on his face. He’s meant to be a professional dammit, not a giddy kid on his first contract desperate to play. But the fact they’d be willing to play him, after seeing him in practice means something doesn’t it? That’s he’s not as bad as he feared he was?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Just reached 100 subscribers, which is pretty damn amazing. 
> 
> So as a thank you, have an entirely adorable newspaper story about Cullen's and Daley's kids
> 
> http://www.post-gazette.com/sports/penguins/2016/10/22/Penguins-Matt-Cullen-and-Trevor-Daley-create-school-environment-for-their-kids/stories/201610220033


	7. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin continues to settle in to Pittsburgh, this time with some help from Duper.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Posting slightly ahead of schedule as I'm going on holiday on Saturday so will be packing tomorrow! Hopefully will have wifi out there; at least I can still write even if I don't!

He only gets lost once this time on his way back to the hotel and feels a sense of achievement at that. He even manages to give himself enough time to change before Duper arrives to collect him for lunch - they’d thought that was easier than him trying to find wherever Duper would try to direct him to. 

Duper is, of course, on time, face breaking into a broad smile when he sees Justin. He takes Justin to a downtown steakhouse, pointing out the key points of Pittsburgh they pass en route. The steak house is quiet and private and the smell is good as they enter the restaurant. Duper is obviously known here, they’re shown to a relatively private table towards the back of the restaurant. 

“It’s a favourite of the team,” Duper explains, as they settle down and look over the menu. “Good food and they look out for us here. Never any hassle.” They order quickly, Justin fully in post hangover and post practice mode now, and while they wait for the food, the conversation is light and easy, talking hockey of course. 

After the food arrives, Duper glances at him and then asks casually, “So, are you finding your feet ok?”

Justin risks a quick upward glance at him, wanting to see if the casualness is real or assumed. Duper’s face is relaxed, but his eyes are watchful, considering, so Justin takes a moment to think, taking a mouthful of food to buy himself some time. 

“It’s good, great to be on the team, get a shot at playoff hockey,” he says, trying to hit the right pitch of enthusiasm. 

Duper looks at him from underneath bushy brows. “That’s great if you feel that way,” he says carefully. “But it sounds a little like what a hockey player in your situation would be expected to say. You did miss out ‘play hard and drive to the net’ though. I’m not a media opportunity, Justin. I know you hardly know me, but I thought you might need someone in Pittsburgh you don’t have to worry about keeping up the facade with.” He takes a drink of his water, giving Justin time to digest what he’s just said. “It’s up to you, and I might be misreading the situation, it might all be good for you. I certainly won’t and can’t force you to say anything to me you don’t feel comfortable doing. But trades are hard, you’re stuck in a no-man’s land for a while and you were coming off a tough season anyway. I just didn’t want you to feel like you’ve got no-one here in Pittsburgh, that you’re alone here.” 

Justin suddenly finds it hard to swallow, battles to do so anyway. Duper is right; he can’t talk to his old friends about his new team and he can’t talk to his new team about his old one. He’s not sure if he can even talk about how up and down the whole experience has been, how he’s struggling to tell himself that he’s a good hockey player - or has been a good hockey player - despite or maybe because of the expectations in Pittsburgh. But also, as he had suspected last night, Duper has seen more than Justin would have wanted. He stares down at his plate a moment considering. 

“It is hard,” he eventually says. “You know your place in a team… you know your role, even if that role is to be the guy who is the team anchor. And then that’s taken away, no notice, and you’re sent onto another team. And the management has been good, they tell me exactly what they expect but…” he lets his voice trail off, not sure if he’s willing to admit much more than that. Duper is nodding encouragingly across the table. He doesn’t say anything, he just listens and it’s that which somehow keeps Justin talking. “What they expect and what I can do might be different. This is meant to be a change, a clean start, a chance to show what I can do, but…” He sighs. “Everyone here assumes the problem was the Oilers. Everyone there assumed the problem was me. It could be either really.” 

He sits back, slightly horrified he’s said so much, but there’s nothing to scare him in Duper’s face. He just looks understanding, he’s not mocking or turning away in horror at Justin’s weakness and stupidity. 

“It could be,” agrees Duper. Justin frowns at him; he’d kind of expected instant denials that the problem was Justin. “But you do have the chance to find out for yourself now. I’ve seen you at practice and I have my own belief as to which it is, but I think you need to realise for yourself.” He pauses, considers for a moment. “Of course, it could even be both. It could be the Oilers’ system not working for you and then you losing your edge as a result. Long term, that wouldn’t mean you’d be like that everywhere. Not all systems work for all players; ask Dales or ask Haggy. Neither of them were doing well in their teams before they came to us, but it didn’t make them bad players. But if you’re stuck in a system which is wrong for a long time, you won’t look good and you won’t feel good,” he shrugs. “But I also think you know this; it’s just easier to think of it for other people, than for you.” Almost without realisation, Justin finds himself nodding in answer. 

“I want it not to be me. It’s just hard sometimes to believe that it isn’t down to me,” he admits. 

Duper nods again. “What were you thinking watching the team play the other night?” 

“That they were so good.”

Duper tilts his head, considering, thinking. “But that’s not all I think? I wonder if you were thinking about your fit on the team.”

Duper has got perilously close to his major anxiety. Justin can’t… he just can’t bring himself to say it, no matter how understanding Duper is. He looks away, trying to find a way to move the conversation away from this. Duper makes a hmm noise. 

“Hey Justin, you don’t need to say anything you don’t want to. It’s just you and me, having a nice lunch, talking of things, letting you get to know the city.” Justin’s eyes are drawn back to Duper’s and they’re crinkling with a friendly smile, and they’re warm and understanding and he finds he can tentatively smile back at what he sees in them. 

“Thanks,” he says, taking another swallow. “I.. I do appreciate it, it does help… but it’s hard too. But it’s nice to know that you noticed and wanted to do this.” He know’s he’s blushing slightly, but Duper just shrugs in response. 

“No problem,” he says. “I have had so much support from the team in all my ups and downs and health issues that it’s nice to be able to give back. And my own situation helps me with insight into how others might be feeling.” Justin finds himself blushing harder; what’s happening with him is a whole different level from what Duper has gone through; if nothing else, Justin can still play hockey, no matter how badly. “Stop that,” Duper says chidingly, obviously reading his face. “It’s not a competition to see who has had it hardest! Anyway, now I’ve interrogated you, now you’ve been here a few days, anything you want to ask about the team? Seems only fair!”

“What happens when someone can’t or won’t accept Sid and Geno?” Somehow his mouth functioned without any input from his brain, and that’s the first question which makes it out. 

“Starting on the easy stuff then? It depends,” says Duper. “Sometimes they work through it, realise they’re just guys like any other and it doesn’t becomes a thing. Give Sutsy credit for being able to do that - by the time he left us, he really didn’t care anymore. Others, well, they find it difficult in the team. It stays professional but there’s always reserve and it hurts the team. They’ll usually end up being traded, although depending how good they are, that could take some time. It’s not great for the team, but we are all meant to be able to rise above stuff like that for the team. If they’re young, it might hurt their prospects. We’re lucky, we’ve got to a point where it’s all good with the team.” He glances over at Justin. “Unless this is something you’re struggling with?”

“What me? Fuck no!” Justin responds instantly and fervently. “There was a emm thing...with the Oilers… and the guys… not the same...but you know…” He can’t say exactly what, and it’s hard to explain about Hallsy and Ebs and Nuge anyway unless you were there. “But it was never explicitly said, like it is here. If you knew and didn’t like it you could ignore but if you knew and were cool they were cool.” 

Duper grins again, eyes crinkling. “Well I’m sure Clendening will be happier there then.”

Lightbulbs go off in his head. 

“Wait, Clendening? He was traded with Perron because Perron wasn’t suiting Pittsburgh. Perron and Clendening? Is that why you’re at the point now where it’s all good?” 

Duper just grins at him innocently. “I couldn’t possibly say.” And that’s actually answer enough. Huh. 

The rest of the lunch is actually fun. Duper is good company, wicked sense of humour and he’s been around the league a long time. Just as they’re getting ready to leave, Justin remembers another thing to ask about. 

“Duper, so who pranked me with the suit?” 

Duper groans. “I was hoping you wouldn’t ask about that. Come on man, I couldn’t possibly tell you which goalie it was. That would be breaking the bounds of brotherhood!” 

“But how did Flower have the time with all his kit?”

“I in no way confirmed it was him and I really can’t reveal their secrets,” and his eyes are twinkling madly at seeing the frustrated look on Justin’s face. 

Justin shakes his head. He knows when he’s not going to win this one. 

0--0--0

The game the next day is mid afternoon, which means practice is earlier and he can feel the unsettledness in the locker room at the change in routine. It’s not voiced, everyone is just a bit shorter and grumpier; well except Flower who does voice his displeasure - loudly, frequently and with a bitter air as though the universe (and the NHL schedulers) are out to get him personally. Still, in drills, Justin does manage to score on him, which earns him a high five from Colesy and a stream of curses from Flower that Justin is surprised hasn’t melted the ice in the crease. 

“You’re just mad I scored!” he shouts back exuberantly. 

“Fuck you!” 

“Great to see such a positive attitude!” He really shouldn’t poke the outraged Flower, but he now sees what Kuni means about how it’s better to score. 

“Fuck your mother, fuck your father and fuck you too!” 

Another howl of indignation follows him as he skates back up the rink, and glancing back he sees Flower batting another puck out of his net, and Phil waving in triumph. 

“We tried a swear box for him once,” Colesy says as they wait to run the next drill. “For charity. It was Sid’s idea.”

“What happened?” Justin wants to hear how much it raised. 

“We lost count - we couldn’t keep up. We think we were up to about $1000 after three days. And honestly, it wasn’t that much per word. But we lost a game during it. He takes losing very personally.”

Justin grins at the thought. “Was it just English?”

“No, we had to include Quebecois as well, since that’s the first thing he did - switched from English to Quebecois to avoid the fines. Still, we all got a great education in obscure French-Canadian swear words! A couple even Duper didn’t know. Fortunately, Tanger was able to provide an explanation of them all. And then, well, the names that Flower called Tanger for doing that didn’t really help with the not-being-fined either.” He grins in recollection. “Giroux goes a little bat-shit crazy if you call him those though, so they are right when they say learning is always valuable.”

Sully doesn’t say anything after practice about whether or not Justin will be playing tomorrow. But they’re leaving for Newark straight from Consol so in some ways, it won’t make a lot of difference. But he would like to know. So much.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Apologies to Clendening and Perron; they were handy plot devices. Still happy to see Clendening is coming good, even if it's with the Rangers, so we need to beat him and grind him into the ice when we play him....


	8. Redemption with the Devils

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin gets to play for the Penguins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, big chapter! If I split before the game, you got virtually nothing, so had to do it all.... Enjoy!

A narrow defeat by the Calgary Flames that afternoon doesn’t do much to dispel the feeling of grumpiness around the locker room. Sully does a lot though. He’s not a screamer. He just makes very clear that they can do better and they should do better - and that they will do better tomorrow. Embarrassed grumpiness gives way to determination. Even Justin feels his shoulders go back, feels himself squaring up and he wasn’t playing. 

But he will be; Sully stops him as they make their way out towards the bus. 

“You’ll be playing tomorrow,” Sully says with a smile. “Make sure you have fun doing it!” and he walks off, not giving Justin any chance to respond, kind of gasping at the abruptness of it all. 

Olli claps a hand on his shoulder. “You look like a fish. Everything ok?”

“I’m playing tomorrow.” It’s still sinking in; it shouldn’t be a big thing, but now, when it’s confirmed as happening, it is. 

Olli grins at him. “Whoahh, great news! Well done Schultzy!” Then his face falls. “Who’s sitting?” 

“I don’t know, Coach didn’t say.” He takes in Olli’s worried face. “It won’t be you. You’re a leftie remember? Besides, you’re the wunderkid!” 

Olli’s face tightens at that, for an instant, before smoothing so quickly Justin almost wonders if he’d seen the expression. But he knows he has. 

“Hey, what’s wrong, what did I say?” he asks, not understanding Olli's reaction. 

“Nothing, it’s fine,” says Olli. “And yeah, you’re right about the handedness, I’d guess Poo. Tough break for the kid.” He catches Justin looking at him. “What?! He might be older than me but he’s a kid in hockey years!”

Justin just shakes his head at him and gets onto the bus for the drive to the airport. 

0--0--0

The travel isn’t bad for this one; it’s going to take some getting used to just how many teams aren’t that far from Pittsburgh. Not after so long with the Oilers where, if you forgot about the Flames and the Canucks - always a good thing to do - there weren’t really any teams within easy travelling distance. He’s actually looking forward to spending a lot less time on buses and planes. 

He makes sure he’s one of the last to board, not wanting to upset any pre-existing seating preferences. There certainly are some; Sid and Flower look all too comfortable sat together, already settled in like they’ve been in the plane for hours. They’re halo-ed by Tanger and Duper and Geno, although Cully is obviously a newer addition to that group, bridging the gap between them and the guys getting set up with a card game mid plane. He’s greeted with a shouted invite to join; declines, but sits near them to see what they’re playing and give him something to focus on and join in with the chatter. 

0--0--0

That night, safely ensconced in his room, sleep comes hard. He hadn’t really thought about the fact that there is a lot riding on this game for him until now, when he has nothing else to think about. It’s his chance to show he’s different here, that he’s not the player he was in Edmonton, that he’s better than that. But he’s not convinced he is; he’s kept awake remembering how many ways he’s fucked up on the ice and how easy it would be to do that again. He tries to cling onto what Sully has said to him, what the other coaches have said to him, about how they appear to trust him…. remembers what Duper had said to him, but it doesn’t seem to outweigh the memory of all those fuck ups, the booing of the crowd, the sickening sound of the goal horn after yet another failure on his part. It’s easy for people to be encouraging and supportive when they haven’t seen him play. 

Eventually he goes back to his old solace of whatever he can find to catch his attention on late night television, hoping that the distraction will focus his thoughts enough to let him sleep. It kind of works, but he continues to wake up periodically, feeling of dread coursing through him, each episode taking time to slow down his heart rate, remember that he’s ok, that he’s fine and each time he does it, it’s like the clock has hardly advanced. 

Eventually it gets late enough - early enough? - for him to give up trying to sleep. He putters on the internet for a bit, until he can justify going down for breakfast. 

Unsurprisingly he’s the first of the team down, though one of the trainers is in there already. It’s his first time on team breakfast on the road so he takes his time looking over options, before helping himself and settling down, playing a game of guessing who will be the next down with himself. Somehow, in all the scenarios he’d conjured, he hadn’t expected Tanger. Tanger moves economically, obviously knowing exactly what he wants, gathering it with the minimum of fuss, before moving to sit down near Justin. 

“Up early?” Tanger greets him with. “I’m conditioned to early mornings now because of Alex. He’s been getting me up early for so long now that even when I get a lie in, I just can’t.” Justin smiles at that. “It’s not funny, it’s fucking annoying,” Tanger responds, but he’s grinning as he says it. 

“Just wanted to get at the day,” Justin says in response, feeling like he needs to explain his appearance. “I can’t even blame time zones.” Tanger nods at that. 

“You’ll be great, they wouldn’t put you in the line-up if they didn’t think so,” he says. Justin starts to wonder if he’s wearing a sign or something saying ‘worried hockey player’. Still, teammates saying good things is better than them being silent or looking at you with doubt or anger or pity. 

Tanger hasn’t long arrived when the next of the team arrive, and then the trickle becomes a flood. Some of the guys are quiet and withdrawn, clearly not morning people, but there’s enough conversation floating around that those who aren’t can join in. Phil is surprisingly chipper; Horny is positively bouncy in a way that’s almost annoying. 

It’s also Horny who looks around the room appraisingly. 

“Ok, so who’s going to be last down this morning? $5 buy-in, split pot, no-shows don’t count!” 

The calls seem to be evenly split between Geno, Tishy and Rust… until Flower chimes in. 

“Sid!” he says calmly. Tanger looks at him. 

“Sid’s never last for breakfast,” he sounds puzzled. 

“So I’m probably wrong; just thought I’d mix it up! We’re always so predictable in the bets. If I’m wrong, I only lose $5; if I’m right I get a great pay-off!”

Tanger looks at him suspiciously and shakes his head. “If he’s last in…. “ he says threateningly, “then we’ll know you are a cheating cheater.” Flower just grins at him, taking another mouthful of eggs. 

Justin thinks back to what had happened earlier, about not betting against Flower. “I’ll go Sid too,” he says. 

“Are you doing that just because Flower did it?” Shears asks. 

“Yep! New guy on the team, I’m following the guy you say never to bet against.” 

“Hey,” says Flower with indignation. “If I win, you’ve just taken half my pot! Get your own outside bet!”

“It’s really a compliment to you, Flower,” Justin replies. Tanger laughs at that. 

“I take Sid too!” Geno’s voice cuts across them. He’s come into the room unnoticed. There’s a chorus of groans and catcalls from the guys who had bet on him being last. 

“No! That shouldn’t be allowed! You have inside knowledge!” Flower insists.

“Lots of inside knowledge!” Geno replies with a leer. 

“No innuendo at breakfast,” moans Kuni. “You promised. It’s way too early to be talking about your sex lives!”

“That not innuendo, that dick joke!” Geno grins hard at Kuni and then Geno continues on as though Kuni hasn’t spoken “But you don’t have inside knowledge Flower? Like you didn’t see Sid coming back from run as you came down to breakfast? He say you did.”

Tanger points at Flower. “Cheating cheater!” he cries triumphantly. 

“Geno has a point though. Seems like either both Geno and Flower are in or both are out,” says Cully. “Horny’s game though, so he gets to decide.” 

“Oh, I’ll let them both stand. Not sure I can take Flower’s bitching if I DQ him.” 

“Why’s Flower being DQ’d?” asks Rusty, rubbing at his face as he walks in the door. 

“If you made it down at a decent time, you’d know,” Scotty says primly. 

“Oh sorry babes, did you bet on me?” Rusty grins at him. 

“Of course!” Scotty replies. “You’re usually a sure bet. I didn’t realise you were getting up early this morning.”

“Don’t they have to share rooms?” Justin mutters to Olli who at some point has slid into the seat next to him. 

“No. They used to make us ELC guys roomshare on the road, but then they realised we were taking it in turns to use whichever room Sid and Geno weren’t using, so they gave up last year and now everyone but call ups get their own rooms. It’s pretty sweet!” 

Just as he finishes, Sid walks into breakfast, to a round of ironic cheers. He is the last to arrive, and he’s blushing at the chirps being sent his way. 

“Well what do you expect when Flower caught me and talked to me about absolutely fucking nothing when I came back from my run” he says, pretty aggrieved. “I should have known better when he started talking about the ‘visitor attractions of New Jersey and how he must bring the family here for a holiday’!” 

“Flower!” shouts Tanger indignantly. “Such a cheating cheater!” 

“What do you expect if you bet against me?” says Flower whilst rolling his eyes. “You all should know better by now. Besides, Sid has a surprising knowledge of family friendly visitor attractions in New Jersey; he’s obviously given it way more thought than is normal.” 

Justin just smiles to himself, happy his strategy has paid off - until Olli catches him doing it and punches him in the arm for it. From then on, he has to keep his feeling of well-being strictly internal. 

0--0--0

Time during the rest of the day flows strangely for Justin; sometimes fast, sometimes slow. He’s thankful he’s able to get a nap in the afternoon though; lack of sleep the night before definitely helped with that. But it also seems like no time at all and all the time in the world before he’s lacing his skates for the game that night. 

The jersey is unfamiliar. Even stranger is the lack of the Canadian anthem. But when the puck drops, it feels like all his nerves are gone, focussed on the play evolving in front of him, listening for his name being called to send him over the boards. 

It takes longer than he would have liked; there’s a 4v4 which the top two pairs cover between them but he and Colesy get the call immediately at its end. 

He almost falls going onto the ice, and feels his face heat, but he has to concentrate on the play almost immediately as the Devils are breaking back up the ice into the defensive end. But he gets through it, and apart from almost colliding with Colesy around the net, doesn’t make any mistakes. But settling back down on the bench afterwards, lungs heaving, he feels himself relax a bit. 

His second shift goes better; for a start, he doesn’t nearly fall getting onto the ice which is a big improvement. He knows his positioning is good, helping defend Murrs around the net and they kill off the Devils’ attack. 

“Anyone smell rancid oil around here?” he hears as he skates back to the bench from one of the Devils, but really, that’s not even worth a reaction. The game is already pretty acrimonious, although with Sestito in the line-up, that’s kind of a given, as that’s what he does. And sure enough, at the start of Justin’s third shift, he suckers Tootoo into dropping gloves, getting the Pens a power play. Justin desperately wants to feel the tap for the power play, but the first unit is still on when Geno wrists a howitzer over Kinkaid’s shoulder, and Justin’s on his feet, celebrating with the rest of his team as the Pens take the lead. 

Justin goes over the boards soon after the restart, so has the pleasure of watching Cole headman the puck up the ice to the forwards, only for them to lose the puck, Cully to win it back and score on Kinkaid again, less than a minute after the power play. Exultation floods through him and he skates over hard to congratulate Cully, before skating past the bench, head held high, grinning from ear to ear. 

From there, it all seems to be good and gets better. He even gets a shot on goal in his next shift, listening to the instinct that tells him that now’s the moment to join the rush, taking the puck into the offensive zone and shooting for the goal, but Kinkaid is there, saving it, and ruefully Justin backs up, letting the forwards take over harrying the puck around the offensive zone, watching carefully for his chance to pinch in again. 

It’s just as well he does go back; Farnham launches a snipe, and Justin is first back defending him, keeping him out of Murrs’ face as he sends his shot over the net. 

“Fucking Farnham,” Colesy mutters as they skate back to the bench for the line change on the face-off. 

“What about him?”

“Started the season with us, wants to be a pest. Devils claimed him off waivers, he feels he’s got a point to prove. That’s why he was in Kuni’s face at the start too.”

“He’s pretty short for that isn’t he?” 

Colesy snorts as he sits down. 

As they settle their D coach is leaning over them. “Good shift boys, keep that up!”

Justin ducks his head to hide his pleased smile. It gets broader when he feels a firm slap on his shoulder and Sully’s unmistakeable voice saying “Good job Schultzy!”

But the game doesn’t stop there. He takes a gulp of Gatorade, re-focuses, picking up the play on the rink, waiting for the chance to go back over the boards again. 

Colesy’s actually really good to play with. He talks. He talks all the time - on the ice, on the bench, a relentless barrage of words. But for Justin, who is still learning Penguins ways, that means there’s so much communication between them, which makes it easier to know where Colesy is and what he’s doing, just from even hearing where the sound of his voice is on the ice. And that gives Justin the confidence to pinch in when he needs to, to try to keep the play alive, to keep the puck in the offensive end as much as possible. Slowly, slowly, he’s starting to feel himself unfurl on the ice, a little bit at a time, to trust himself again. His skating gets smoother, more confident and the puck is doing what he wants it to. He’s almost sorry when the period ends, afraid to break the spell. 

His reverie is broken by Colesy talking - of course - as they clump into the locker room. Jen, PR doyenne is waiting for him. 

“Don’t forget you’re doing the interview with Dan this period. It’ll be pretty softball, just try not to swear and relax.”

“The secret word to include is ‘giraffe’,” shouts Flower from across the room. “If you can get giraffe into the interview then we all have to buy you a drink.”

“NO, Flower, how many times do I have to tell you? No secret team words!” she swings around to face Flower. “This is why I don’t let you do these!”

“My word was ‘multi-limbed octopus’” Flower explains to the ceiling. 

“You also tried to answer every question using ABBA song titles,” replies Jen with exasperation. “Don’t think we didn’t notice. Half the internet noticed. And the other half noticed when Puck Daddy did an article. I’m not sure that ‘Dancing multi-limbed octopus’ counted though.”

“I’m heart-broken that I don’t get to do those interviews anymore. Particularly when I generate such positive coverage for the Pens. Anyway, Sid was playing exactly like a dancing multi-limbed octopus.”

“You can take my place?” suggests Justin hopefully. A mirrored look of horror goes across Jen and Flower’s face simultaneously, causing Justin to snort back a laugh. 

“Go, go!” Jen says in response shoo-ing Justin towards the door and out to where Dan Potash is waiting for him. “And don’t listen to Flower!”

Dan is friendly, explaining what he wants and generally settling him down before they go live. Jen is right, the questions are softball. And he doesn’t use the word giraffe, even though his mind supplies him with the option to do so. 

“See, that wasn’t so bad - great job!” Jen says to him as he walks off after the interview, heading back to the locker room. “You were thinking giraffe though, weren’t you?”

He nods his head in acknowledgement. Jen sighs. 

“It’s Flower’s fault, he gets inside your head so well. Thanks for resisting. At least it wasn’t mongoose - some day the media is going to get wind of that…. “ She pauses, obviously contemplating that. 

“Am I good - can I go?” Justin doesn’t really want to wait around, wants to retreat back into the locker room. 

“For sure! On you go - and thanks again!” Jen smiles at him, waving him away. 

0--0--0

Talk in the locker room is positive - very much ‘keep doing it!’ They know the Devils struggle to score, so it’s about keeping the pressure on, stopping them getting any back. The team bounce back out onto the ice, prepared for the Devils coming out to push hard and committed to doing the same. 

They manage to withstand the pressure, forcing the game to their pace relentlessly. 

Rusty is a terrier - mongoose? - with the puck on the third shift early in the second, just will not give it up, managing eventually to get it to Bones who swipes it into the net before Kinkaid can get over to block it. Justin’s on his feet with the rest of the team, cheering as Bones skates by, face fierce and relieved. There’s a lot of congratulations on the forward bench when he sits down. Justin looks at Colesy.

“First goal this year… had a drought,” Colesy replies, giving a thumbs up along the bench to Bones. 

Shortly after, Dumo and Dales get caught on a long shift, unable to clear the puck out of their end long enough to change. Eventually Murrs is able to cover it for a face-off and Dales and Dumo skate off slowly, weaving as they gasp their way back to the bench. 

Behind him, Justin hears his name and feels the tap that sends him over the boards. Gripping his stick, trying to control his breathing, he takes his position behind the face-off, watching the puck and the Devils intently. 

Bones wins the face-off, sending the puck quickly up ice, before the Devils get it back and return to the Pen’s end. Justin finds himself out front, with a blue line shot coming in but manages to deflect it off his leg to send the puck into the corner. He scurries after it, checking behind him, seeing the Devil skating in towards him so backhands it behind the net to Colesy who gets it to Rusty. 

Picking himself up mentally after dodging the hit from the Devil, Justin can suddenly see Rusty’s play develop, can see the Devils d-men focussing on the two Pens forwards coming down the left wing, and accelerates, driving forward down the right where the ice is empty and unguarded. As he enters the offensive end with speed, he shouts and Rusty hears him, sending the pass across to him so he can come onto it with speed and space, Devils scrambling to get over to this new threat which has just materialised. The puck bounces though and he can’t get a shot away cleanly, sends it towards the net, hoping someone is following him up and can get it in. The crowd are oohing at the play as he carries on with speed around the back of the net, puck lost behind him, no-one able to get a follow-up. He flexes his hands on his stick in frustration - such a good opportunity and he just couldn’t control the puck, sliding onto the bench for the change. In his mind's eye, he sees the space around Kinkaid. Watching the replay, he sees he actually sent it through Kinkaid’s five-hole cleanly, but across the goal - any deflection off Kinkaid would likely have sent it in. 

“That was the right play Justin,” Sully’s voice is in his ear. “Good call, just needed to try to get the shot away a little earlier - or a bit more luck! Keep playing like that kid, you’ll get them.” 

He ducks his head, allows himself a grin at the praise, while the Pens continue to dominate play. Justin doesn’t get an opportunity like that again, but he feels settled into the game, alert and playing not too bad, taking everything in his stride, things working out well with Colesy. 

He’s not even on ice when the Pens concede the first goal - something he’s secretly relieved for. A mix up on the line change leaves Tanger as the only d-man out there and Olli just too late and not fast enough to get back in time to help prevent Palmeiri sniping it past Murrs. It’s the kind of thing that gives d-men nightmares. 

“Keep focussed,” shouts Sully to the bench in the aftermath of the Devil goal celebrations. “We’ve still got this, don’t let them get back into it!” Justin flexes his hands around his stick, determined that they won’t get back into it on his shift. 

The Pens re-group and go back out there with fresh determination, fighting hard for every puck, trying to snuff out that glimmer of hope for the Devils. 

And then towards the end of the second, Geno is out on the forecheck, sharking down on the d-man who trips over his own skates, leaving Geno with a clear lane and all the time in the world. Kinkaid appears transfixed as Geno wrists it into the net, putting the Penguins up 4-1. 

The bench erupts. Justin however, can’t help but watch Merrill, the Devils d-man, skate slowly back to the bench. It was all too reminiscent of things that Justin has done and his stomach twists. It’s all too easy to do things like that. 

“Hey, hey!” says Olli, leaning across the boards beside him, resting in the tv time-out. “Watch us, not them! Look at that shot from Geno. What a beauty!” Justin finds his eyes drawn up to the screen, still showing the replay and yeah, it is. He suddenly realises what Olli has just done, glances at him to see if he recognises it too. Olli’s looking at him with young-old eyes that see too much, a ghost of a bitter smile across his lips. Justin really would much prefer to see the dimples than that expression on his face. 

“Listen to the aged fountain of wisdom!” he responds, teasingly. He doesn’t quite get his wish, but Olli’s smile changes into something more real. 

“You’d better believe it!”

Justin’s attempt to respond is interrupted by the coaches, calling them in to go over some key points for the last few minutes of the period. 

“We don’t want to give up any loose goals here because you’re thinking about your slippers and your hot chocolate in the locker room at intermission! Stay focussed until the buzzer sounds. And don’t let them get to you - they’re looking to incite you! Stay calm, keep skating and play between the whistles and ignore Bobby fucking Farnham,” And then Sully grins, looking amazingly boyish when he does so. “Except you Sestito! But don’t instigate. Keep calm.” 

Linesman signals that the play is about to commence again, and the skaters line up on the ice, ready for the face off. 

“Hot chocolate in the intermission would be awesome,” Justin hears Colesy mutter. 

“For sure.” 

0--0--0

They close out the period, although they have to make do with energy bars and gatorade and coffee in the intermission, not a hot chocolate in sight. Despite that, the mood is bright and positive and fun and the team just wants to get out there and finish it off. 

“Let’s get another 4!” shouts Colesy as they start to leave the locker room to go out onto the ice. 

“Feel free to join in anytime with that!” mutters Scotty from further back in the room. There’s a general chuckle around from that. 

“I wouldn’t want to take the shine from the forwards. Got to let you do something you know!” Colesy replies with wounded dignity. “Kids today….no respect” he mutters with a twinkle as he turns away, making his way out the door. 

They get underway quickly, getting a PP early on from a hook on Phil. As the first line goes out, Sully leans over Justin. 

“I’m going to send you out with the second unit if we need it. Keep the puck moving, get it through if you can see a lane, if not get it to the half walls to redistribute. You’ll be good.” And he moves away, calling for Scotty, Kuni, Dales and Bones, letting them know they’ll be out next. Justin exchanges looks with them along the bench, waiting with a flush of pride to see if he’s needed. He’s trying not to think of the implications of the tap, storing it up to think about it later when he’s not in the middle of a hockey game, but he knows it’s good. 

They don’t manage to do much - they struggle to get into the offensive end and get set up in the cycle, the Devils killers harassing them and breaking up their rhythm, until Justin, in the dying seconds flicks the puck towards the net, hoping for a redirect or something. It doesn’t work but it was worth a try. He slides off at the first opportunity to let Olli and Tanger onto the ice. 

Almost immediately Pens are back on the PP, courtesy of a slew-feet from Ruutu on Cully. Cully’s pissed and uncharacteristically swearing as he comes back to the bench, but Justin sits there, waiting to see if he gets more PP time. 

He does, and they get better quality zone time but still can’t score, although once again Justin gets a glimmer of an open lane, launching the puck towards the net only for it to close and be blocked harmlessly away. He comes back to the bench frowning in frustration, but it’s not like the first unit do any better and another PP goes by without them able to score. He can feel the frustration coming from the team on that, is happy to go over the boards at the end of the tv time-out for a defensive end draw. They move the puck up into the offensive end, Rusty taking off up the ice on the forecheck after the dump in, shutting down the Devils attempts to clear the puck until they win another face-off, courtesy of Cully and Bones almost getting the puck in net, forcing Kinkaid to cover up. 

That one they also win, and the puck cycles round until it comes back to Justin. He’s skating forward with it, pushing from the blue line when time stands still for a moment as he sees glorious space in front of him and Rusty skating into space at the net while Kinkaid is set to defend a shot from Justin; instead he passes quickly to Rusty who tips it cleanly into the net. 

There’s a frozen moment of ‘Oh fuck that worked’ then another of ‘OH FUCK THAT WORKED!!’ because it seems so long since anything like that he’s tried has worked and then he and Rusty are hugging, the rest of the team hammering into them to congratulate them. He feels aglow, skin buzzing, because he did something and it worked and it feels a such long time since that happened. He skates past the team, taking the fist bumps in a daze, just enjoying the warm satisfaction and pride like it’s something new. It might as well be. 

Finally, he settles back down on the bench, taking a mouthful of Gatorade to settle himself back down, feeling Colesy’s enthusiastic pat on the back and his “Attaboy Schultz!” Further down the bench, Justin can hear Rusty talking ebulliently about Justin’s pass, hands waving to illustrate his point, being listened to with good humour by Bones. He takes another moment to bask in the pride of it all, and then resolutely shuts it away, focussing back on the game being played out in front of him. So much to process from this game. 

It’s starting to feel like a foregone conclusion; the Devils should be pushing hard, but the Pens are containing them now, and spending a lot of time in the Devils zone. For once, it’s the Pens shutting things down in the neutral zone, not the Devils trapping hard. Sully’s reminding them to play clever, to not take chances and that’s what they do. Dales gets pulled for a stick hold, but they kill that penalty easily. Then Rusty draws a penalty quickly after the Pens’ kill and they manage to kill some time with their goalie pulled and the extra man on, and the Devils increasingly desperate to get control of the puck and get onto the penalty, not wanting to have more time at the man disadvantage than they need to. 

Justin gets called again part way through the powerplay. He’s the stay at home d-man - well so much as any d-man on this team stays at home - and he thinks the Oilers minds’ would be blown to see him doing that. But with Tanger and Phil and Geno roaming, he hangs back. He still gets one shot on goal, lane magically opening again in front of him, only to watch Kinkaid kick it back out again. 

He’s just got back to the bench on a shift-change, Olli sliding out to replace him, when the bench erupts and he looks down the ice to see the Pens in a huddle and the Devils skating around aimlessly. Scotty peels himself out of the hug on ice, to take the fist bumps from the bench. 

It’s a blow out - there’s no way the Devils can come back from this and Sully starts resting his top line players, letting the lower lines take up the slack, rolling them so that Justin and Colesy are basically alternating with Dumo and Dales for the last five minutes or so of the period. He’s really starting to feel the strain from that, legs burning and chest heaving, but at the same time, there’s pride also that he’s out there, not fucking things up and he’s carrying his weight on the team. 

The buzzer finally goes and Justin raises his hands to the heavens in delight before skating up to bump helmets with Murrs, grinning broadly behind his mask. 

“Great job Murrs!” he yells at him, before skating off to where Tanger is fist-bumping them all as they leave the ice. 

The locker room is abuzz, loud and noisy, raucous with good humour and satisfaction. 

“Fucking great job tonight boys!” Horny bellows as he charges into the room. “Let’s play like that for the rest of the season!” There’s a cheer for his words and another as a sweaty but grinning Murrs enters the room, followed by Tanger and Sid. 

Justin sits down, starting to strip off jersey and padding methodically, wanting it gone so he can enjoy the win with the team - with his team! - before the media arrive. It all feels a little unreal, right now. Less than two weeks ago, he was battling despondency with the Oilers, and now he’s just picked up his first assist and won his first game with the Penguins. He wasn’t even on ice for the lone goal against and perhaps, most importantly, he didn’t fuck up tonight. He was even tapped for the PP. He can feel some pride in what he did - but it’s outweighed by relief that he got through tonight without fucking up and seeing those looks on Pens’ faces that he’d got used to seeing on Oilers’ faces. There’s a part of him that knows that’s wrong; that his primary emotion shouldn’t be relief, but he’s just too relieved that he doesn’t have to face those accusing, pitying looks from his new team. 

Beside him, Colesy’s still delivering the running commentary which he has done pretty much all game and it steadies Justin, just as it did through the game as well. It’s only when Colesy actually stops that he realises something else is happening in the locker room and he glances behind him to see the coaches entering the room. 

Sully looks fiercely proud. “You did a good job tonight,” he says, and even after such a short time of knowing him, Justin feels that resonate, feels his shoulders straighten, see how the room reacts to the praise, the heads being held even higher, the relaxation of a tension, the knowledge that they are being given permission to just enjoy tonight. “We know when we play the right way we can beat anyone and everyone in this room stepped up tonight. Good job!” 

He looks solemnly around the room, catching their eyes, and even the mongooses are silenced, focussed and intent. “Optional skate in the morning tomorrow, and I’ll see you for video in the afternoon tomorrow, and we’ll leave for New York from there.” He waves at Geno, who’s fidgeting with a metal helmet in his hands, standing up and moving forward into the room. 

“Too much good today,” he says. “Bones - good goal! Schultzy - first point as Penguin! Murrs stopped lots.” He stops and grins smugly. “Me!” He announces to a round of good-natured cat-calls from the team. “But Rusty played out his skin, come get warrior’s helmet Rusty!” 

There’s cheers around the room as Rusty steps forward, face flaming but grinning from ear to ear, accepting the teams slaps on the backs and rubs on the head before he puts the helmet on, still grinning before the room moves on, changing and showering and doing media and generally just enjoying the feeling of a well-played win. Justin wishes that hockey could be like this all the time. 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So far as I know, Flower has never said Sid moved like a dancing multi-limbed octopus, nor has he answered questions only using Abba song titles. But I wish he had.
> 
> Game plays are all accurate. 
> 
> Did anyone see the article about the Pens fantasy football league and how Olli and Justin manage a team together? <3 <3 <3


	9. Glitter!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's been with the team a week... do they notice? Of course they do...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> A little mini chapter just because a bit of angst and a bit of fluff is all good. I'll post the second part of the chapter (angst!) on Friday as usual.
> 
> And I've passed the 50k word count while on holiday/vacation..

Even though they don’t get back until the early hours of the morning, Justin doesn’t feel like he can miss optional skate, so he sets his alarm, dragging himself out when it’s incessant beeping starts. Skate is very depleted that morning, but he’s starting to feel like he can live with the pace they practice at for the first time and actually has the breath available to breathe a sigh of relief at that. 

He even manages to head to the gym afterwards. There’s a whole bunch of the team in, some of them obviously electing gym time over skating. Olli grins at him as Justin enters, working easily and smoothly in a way that suggests he’s been in for some time. There’s a subset of mongooses working with the fierce determination he recognises from their ice time, but still managing to make a lot of noise as they do so. Hags seems to be doing some kind of speed training alongside Tanger - like they need to get any faster. But there’s an easy camaraderie around the room, a shared purpose that he doesn’t recognise from his time on the Oilers. There’s competition here, but it’s competition to improve, not necessarily to show you’re better than someone else. He hadn’t even noticed the difference until now. 

Well mostly competition to improve; Tanger seems determined to beat Hags, who is equally as determined not to be beaten. They are still competitive hockey players after all. Hags, not unexpectedly, wins it, to a glower from Tanger. 

“I could have beaten them both!” mutters Shears indignantly but sotto voce from the corner where the mongooses are working. Murrs shushes him firmly, looking around to see if anyone has overheard that boast and whether retribution is pending. Justin grins to himself, but doesn’t say a word. Benny, beside him, has his headphones on and is zoned out, not even aware of Hags and Tanger, never mind Shears’ mutters. 

The guys working out start to drift off to shower and change and eat before their video session. Justin gets so caught up in that that it seems to pass in a flash, and then they are heading out onto the bus for the trip to New York and the Islanders. It’s only his second game on the road, but there’s already a faint feeling of familiarity as he slides into the seat next to Olli on the bus. The talk on the bus is speculation about whether the Islanders new rink is as bad as rumour has it. Justin’s actually played there, but all his memories of the rink are bad, given they were fucked over 8-1 and his fuck ups had contributed to the score line. 

He hasn’t realised how bad it hurts to think back to that time until Tommy turns to him to ask if he’s played there before. He feels the anxiety rising just having to think about that game, the collective feeling of despair and fear rising across the bench when it had gone wrong right from the start, like everything they had done or tried to do had been hopeless and fallen short. 

“Yeah, I have, Oilers played there in early February,” he says, shrugging. “But I really can’t remember much about it, it wasn’t a good game.” 

It’s too late; it’s caught half the team’s attention. He tries to answer their questions, they’re all pretty reasonable and going to play at a new rink is sufficiently unusual that there is real interest from the rest of the team, particularly given the bad things that have been rumoured since the centre opened. His own team - the Oilers he mentally corrects himself, he’s a Pen now - had been just the same before the game. But as the questions keep coming, he feels himself shrinking in on himself, hunching in to try to keep the bad memories at bay, and his answers are getting shorter and shorter as he tries to disengage from the conversation without losing it with anyone, the anxiety and panic getting worse. He knows it’s stupid, that he’s not under scrutiny, but it feels like he is, that his inadequate play is going to be out on show for everyone to pick over. 

He hopes it will stop once they have transferred from the coach to the plane, but it doesn’t. He’s had a chance, going through security, to reset a bit and calm down, distract himself, but he feels his heart sink as Bones asks him something about the away locker room once they are settled into the seats. All he can remember of it is dejected faces, of anger and frustration, of blame, of shame. He starts to mutter something nondescript in response, but Phil surprisingly interrupts him. 

“Hey guys, enough already ok? We’ll see it for ourselves tomorrow, no point in going on and on about it to Schultzy when he’s already said he doesn’t remember much about it and there’s no time at all until we can see it and make our own judgements.” He says it firmly, not looking at Justin at all, but looking around the group who were hanging around him. Justin flushes. It almost feels worse to have it stopped like that, like he can’t even help them with simple information that the team wants. 

“No, honestly, I don’t mind,” he starts to say but this time it’s Dales who interrupts him. 

“Yeah, fair point Phil. Sorry Schultzy, we didn’t mean to bug you!” and he smiles ruefully at Justin and just like that, it’s all smoothed over, there’s mutters of acknowledgement coming from the others involved and the group is breaking up a bit, focus moving away from Justin as the cards come out. 

Dales snags him as they leave the plane. “Sorry Schultzy, I’m the last person to have forgotten sometimes we don’t want to remember stuff that went on before we were traded. Don’t feel like you can’t tell us to shut up. Some of the guys here are lucky not to have gone through it all going bad on a team… they don’t understand what it feels like but they’ll respect what you want.” 

Justin ducks his head, embarrassed at himself for being so transparent, for being so weak, for letting anyone else see how much it had bothered him. Dales, glancing across, must see something of that on his face, as he continues, much more vehemently. 

“Hey Justin, really this isn’t your fault. A lot of us have baggage coming onto the team and we’ve just got to be able to respect that while we work it through. I thought things weren’t good with the Hawks, but I can’t imagine what it felt like with the Oilers at the end there. It’s a big adjustment to come onto a new team, and not have all that anymore…” He looks earnestly at Justin. 

Justin doesn’t know what to do. He wants to acknowledge what Dales has said, that Dales is right, but he can’t bring himself to be even more vulnerable. He tries a smile, mutters at Dales “thanks man,” and hopes that enough because he’s not sure he can do much more, not with the lump in his throat which is making breathing difficult. 

Fortunately, Dales doesn’t push it. He grins back easily, claps Justin on the shoulder. 

“No problem,” he replies. “But at some point, you and me and Phiil are going to go out for a cathartic ‘our last teams were crap’ drinking session.”

“What am I doing?” Phil has caught his name as he walks by, is looking at them suspiciously. 

“Coming out drinking with us to bitch about how awful the Leafs were, while I bitch about the Hawks and Justin bitches about the Oilers.” 

Phil grins. “I guess I’d be up for that. Hags might maybe want to join in too. I guess I’ll bring the voodoo dolls though.”

Dales laughs. “For the Toronto media?”

“For sure!” Kessel grins wider and nods, looking oh so delighted and even Justin has to laugh at that. 

0--0--0

The game the next day is exceptionally frustrating. They put a lot of shots on goal, but only Tanger gets one by Halak. Unfortunately, Islanders score twice on the PP. Sully’s face gets grimmer and grimmer as the game goes on; there’s nothing they can point at, Halak is just being a wall. And even when he goes off injured, they just can’t get the equaliser, Islanders pulling out all the stops to protect their new goalie. 

“This rink sucks,” Flower grumbles in the room afterwards. “Islanders sucks, Tavares sucks, refs sucks, New York sucks, losing sucks.” There’s a round of nods and grunts of agreement. You don’t like to lose by playing badly, but losing when you should have won doesn’t feel much better. 

“Next time,” says Sid with determination. “We’ll come here and make good memories for everyone in this place. And we’ll go out on Friday, put this game behind us and beat the Jackets. You know what doesn’t suck? Getting into the playoffs. And we’re doing to do that. Resilience!” His eyes are glinting suspiciously as he says the final word, but there’s another round of nods and grunts from the room. 

“I couldn’t have put it better myself,” says Sully dryly from the doorway. Sids cheeks flame slightly, but he meets Sully’s eyes. “You went out there tonight and you tried and you stuck with it. Tonight was one of those nights where we just didn’t get the bounces, but you kept trying and you didn’t give up and we need that resilience to see us through to season end. So yes, we need to come back hard against the Jackets on Friday but I know you can do it.”

There’s a more enthusiastic response to that. There’s just something about Sully, Justin reflects. He’s only been with the Pens about a week, and already the coach is getting into his mind. He’s never less than positive, he’s passionate and no-one wants to make him mad. Not even the mongooses - although Justin does think he heard that they had played for him down in the AHL so have even more experience of him. 

The team is much quieter on its way back to Pittsburgh, guys happy to drowse on the short flight. Justin’s really relieved to get back to his hotel room, and put the trip behind him. 

0--0--0

There’s a three day break between Islanders and Jackets games. It’s nice to get a good run of training sessions, and Justin is starting to feel a lot more comfortable in the team and the way it plays, knowing what is expected of him and when. 

What Justin doesn’t expect is to walk into the locker room on Thursday to find a large pink cake, covered with glitter and sparkles and icing sitting in his stall. 

_Happy Week Anniversary!_ is piped onto it in atrociously curly purple writing. He looks at it and as he does so, there is a round of giggles from the mongooses. It takes him a moment to realise that yes, it really is only a week. It actually feels a lot longer. 

“Ok, whose idea was it?” he turns to them. They’re openly laughing now, all trying to look innocent. There’s a feel in the locker room as though breath is being held, waiting to see how he will react. 

“Nothing to do with us!” exclaims Scotty, trying to look innocent. “Why does everyone always assume it’s us?”

“Because it usually is,” growls Tanger. 

“What about Flower?” responds Shears hotly, apparently stung by the accusation. 

“It’s never me,” Flower is not letting his reputation go undefended. When the room around him disputes his statement, he says thoughtfully, “At least I never look guilty regardless of whether it’s me or not.” 

“I think you’ve just told us we can’t trust your protestations of innocence,” cuts in Hags. 

“You mean you did?” Flowers brows are raised and he’s grinning. “Anyway, this one must be Horny’s!”

There’s a splutter of outrage from Horny. “This one was not on me! I wouldn’t have chosen such awful colours.”

“That’s true,” says Olli thoughtfully. “If it was Horny he’d have made it blue and gold like any self-respecting Swede!”

“Fuck off Olli!” the statement comes simultaneously from both Horny and Hags. The weight of it is somewhat reduced by the fact that Horny is stripping off a royal blue t-shirt as he says it, a fact not lost on the rest of the locker room, who immediately start chirping him for it. 

When things have calmed down a little, it’s Flower who speaks again,to Justin, as he fastens his pads on. 

“Anyway, it was Horny who pointed out you’d been here a week and said we should do something to mark it.”

“Well, I said that, but the cake is not mine!” He pauses. “It is a nice idea though!”

And Justin has to agree with that. It’s obvious while the cake design is a wind-up, at it’s heart, it’s a nice gesture. And someone - or more than someone if the locker room chat is to be believed - had recognised the passing of Justin’s first week on the team. The feeling of *team* has slowly been building in him through the last week, of belonging and wanting to belong, and he feels a flush of warmth that they’re seeing him that way too, wanting to make him feel welcome and part of them. And he can use that to battle the voice that says that when he fucks up and they realise what a bad player he is, they’ll turn away from him as so many others did. 

“It is a nice idea,” Justin chimes in firmly. “And thank you to whoever arranged it. Although, maybe, less glitter next time? Please?” He looks plaintively at his stall, which has quite a lot of glitter on it, which has transferred to just about everything in his stall as well. “Dana’s going to kill me!”

They make it out to the ice without incurring too much of the coaches’ wrath for being late, although Sully does look at Justin with bemusement as he skates onto the ice. 

“Schultzy, why are you covered in glitter?”


	10. Broken hearts and broken wings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Columbus. Bad things happen in Columbus....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So here's the second part of this week's chapter as promised. 
> 
> I'm sorry Columbus, I've never visited you, but I've been brainwashed about you by friends. And all non-CBJ goalies hate the cannon.

Justin had thought that travel would be better with the shorter flights of the east. And it is in a way, but the hassle of getting to and from the airport, of boarding and disembarking, of the transfers is still the same for a series of very short flights and the flights to Columbus are not any different. 

“Ah Columbus, asshole of the world,” says Flower bitterly as he goes down the aircraft steps. “I’d to spend a weekend here once for the All-Star game. I shouldn’t be forced to come here anymore. I’ve served my sentence.”

“There are worse destinations,” says Sid as they make their way to the bus. 

“Where?” says Dales. There’s a silence as they all try to think of a worse place to go to. 

“Detroit,” replies Cully with certainty. There’s a moment of thought, as half the bus weighs the relative merits of Detroit versus Columbus. 

“Yeah,” says Sid. “You have a point, but Detroit has some great memories too!” He’s got a dopey expression on his face - in fact all the guys who were on the Pens when they won the cup have that same look on their face, and Justin suddenly realises they won it in Detroit. 

“Well for us mere mortals then… “ says Colesy. “What about Winterpeg or Buffalo?”

There’s an expression of horror on Sid’s face. “Winnipeg? How can you say it’s awful? It’s a great city.”

Phil chimes in with a sly grin. “No point in suggesting to Captain Canada that any place in Canada is worse than Columbus.” There’s a roar of laughter at that and Sid is blushing scarlet. 

The conversation on the bus breaks down into smaller group discussions, players debating the worst hockey destinations in the league. 

Tommy shrugs in the group Justin finds himself in. 

“Try complaining about NHL destinations when you’ve played in the ECHL.”

It’s really hard to answer that without seeming like an over-entitled NHL player. 

0--0--0

“The city is an asshole, the team are assholes, their coach is an asshole!” mutters Flower as they skate onto the ice for warm-up, watching Sully and Torts greet each other cheerfully. “The cannon is pathetic. The rink isn’t too bad. The fans deserve better.”

Justin quickly realises that most of the rest of the team share his sentiments. While it isn’t the Flyers, there’s no love lost here. Sully is keen to emphasise the importance of keeping their cool, of playing between the whistles. 

“They’ve got nothing to gain now, they’re out, they can be assholes without any concern for outcomes. We can’t get drawn in. Play smart, skate smart. We need these points, gentlemen.” There’s a gleam in his eye. “And I’d love to beat Torts again!” 

There’s a cheer from the team on that one. Torts is not held in great regard given previous comments about Sid and Geno, comments Colesy had recounted to Justin with all the enthusiasm of a fishwife gossiping. 

It’s not as simple as that. 

There’s a moment, early in the first when he thinks he scores off a one-timer, the puck bobbling behind Bobrovsky, the goal light going on, but no-one at the net is celebrating and he doesn’t know how it stays out, but it does, the team picking up and playing on. It couldn’t be as simple as that. 

It’s virtually never as simple as that, fifteen seconds later, Justin thinks as he backchecks frantically down the ice, courtesy of a missed d-coverage from one of the forwards, lone Penguin against two of the Jackets. He can see Colesy motoring as fast as he can, trying to get back to help out and he almost gets there, but Justin also sees the player on his right look to his right to see if the pass is there. Justin’s trying to maintain good spacing, but he’s being pushed back, giving them space with the speed of the rush, so he has no choice but to throw himself to the ice, trying to block the puck from sliding over. 

He fails. 

Campbell, the Blue Jacket, doesn’t miss the gaping hole in Flower’s net. 

As Justin slides to a stop, the crowd is going wild and Flower is cursing up a storm, skating off to the boards and back, trying to reset. Justin picks himself up and heads back the bench. Sully is not happy. The team are not happy and Justin ducks his head as he slides onto the bench, replacing Tanger and Olli who are heading out for the face-off, but not before Olli has given him a reassuring pat on the shoulder. But he knows he’s fucked up, a better defence man would have been able to stop that and he’s half expecting to be benched for a while or even the game, early though it is. He can’t do shit like this. He just doesn’t seem to be able to stop. 

“Tough play Schultzy,” their D coach is leaning over his shoulder. “You did well getting back and you nearly blocked it. Just watch your spacing on them as they come on like that. But that wasn’t on you, they played that well, and you were playing catch up. Keep your head up and keep on playing.” 

Colesy nudges him once Martin has finished speaking. “You’ll get them next time!”

Justin grabs a water bottle, takes a drink, trying to process what just happened there. The bench’s response wasn’t what he expected. Maybe the coaches are just waiting until the intermission, but then why would Martin even say what he had said? Justin knows he fucked up; he’s shown them how bad he is. Maybe they think it’s a one off? Sadly, Justin knows it won’t be. He’s not sure why he hasn’t been fucking up before now while wearing the black and gold, but he knew it wouldn’t last and his heart sinks at the thought of having his slowly building hopes dashed, of showing that even with a good team around him, he’s still a bad player. 

He’s jarred out of his black thoughts by Sully giving them the heads up that they’re up next and the surprise of that makes him freeze for an instant. But instinct takes over, and he’s jumping onto the ice as Tanger comes off. 

He doesn’t fuck up. Somehow he keeps it together, watching his spacing, winning on the boards to get the puck up to the forwards and then he’s changing and finding the grasp on his stick relaxing a bit, the fear and shame of the previous shift receding a bit, his composure returning a bit. 

They keep calling on him like nothing has happened, rolling the D, trusting him to go out there and not fuck up. He can’t quite believe it but he keeps going, hitting the ice with speed and trying and pushing and striking and hitting and trying to get the puck out of his end and into the goal. It doesn’t go in for him, but Tanger strikes on the power play, ending it early and tying up the game. It stays that way through the rest of the first, through a barrage of hits from the Jackets. 

He’s not sure what to expect in the intermission; the coaches’ reactions have been so unexpected he kind of just has to go in, steeling himself for anything. But it probably didn’t include Sully pulling him aside for a moment. 

“Great recovery, Shultzy! Good to see you staying focussed and concentrating on what’s happening in the game, not what’s gone before. Keep doing that, keep trying to get pucks on the net, play between the whistles and don’t get dragged into their nonsense.”

Justin only manages something incoherent in response, but Sully nods at him, leaving him to go off and speak to some of the other players, leaving him a bit dazed. It’s just so not what he expected…. 

But Justin has to admit the wisdom of it, when he’s on ice for Hags’ score on the rebound. He doesn’t do much; he’s on with Dales and he’s left playing last D when Dales jumps into the play, but he’s there and on the ice and that counts too. 

That’s also the last goal of the game, and it takes it for the Penguins. Despite a succession of players going down the runway to the trainers - Rusty, Geno and Scotty are all out of the game at some point, and Geno and Scotty don’t return, to dark looks up and down the bench for the recklessness of the Jackets - even running such a light bench, the Jackets can’t get that goal back. Sully is firm in the need to play between the whistles, and the players - somehow - manage to follow his and Sid’s lead, although Tanger looks more and more furious as the game goes on, his skating somehow getting faster and more precise in response. 

In the locker room after, Flower’s ebullience at getting his 350th win is tempered by the news about Scotty and Geno; both out, pending further medical evaluation. Geno’s sat looking woebegone in his stall, slumped and withdrawn, arm immobilised and suit jacket draped around his shoulders. Sid’s over there in a flash, hand reaching out towards Geno, but pulls up at the last moment, hesitant and unsure, like he’s afraid to even touch Geno in case it causes him pain, worry written all over his face. 

“It okay, it not hurt now,” Geno reassures him. “Give me good stuff.” Sid touches his cheek gently before sitting down next to him, such an intense look of love and protection on his face that Justin turns away, unwilling to intrude any more and trying to give them some privacy in the least private place he knows. 

They won. It’s what they came to do and what they needed to do. But looking at Geno, broken, in his stall, Sid curled around him protectively, the cost seems very high.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It may be angsty ahead..... 
> 
> If you want to see Schultz's not-a-goal, followed by the CBJ goal I describe, then here's the video link: https://www.nhl.com/video/t-279183736/c-42456803


	11. The difference between blame and responsibility

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the CBJ game; Justin learns there's a difference between blame and responsibility.

Justin sleeps better than expected that night. He thought he’d have another restless one after his fuck up in the game, but exhausted by the game and the travel afterwards - not least their late arrival into New York - he finds his sleep is deep and dreamless. 

Breakfast the next day is subdued, the gaps in the team all too apparent, the team pensive about what Geno’s loss will mean for their chances of a play-off place. Voices are hushed, conversations are muted. Confidence seems to have ebbed away, the team is in a dark place, flashes of anger and resentment breaking through in conversations. 

And then Horny comes into the room. 

“Oh my dear fucking god, it feels like a funeral in here!” he frowns at them all, the expression seeming odd on his usually smiling face. “No-one died. We’re in a play-off place, and we’re going to stay in a play-off place because there are no other teams behind us good enough to get in front of us. Stop panicking. Sid’s allowed to mope for this morning but that’s all. But this is not all bad for the rest of us. Consider we no longer have to listen to them flirting with each other or listen to Geno’s dick jokes. We don’t have to argue about who has to have the room next to theirs on the road. No sleeping with earplugs for those poor sods!” He waves his arms at them all. “And you know what Geno’s like. Wild horses won’t keep him from Sid a moment longer than he has to. So let’s just enjoy the break while we have it, because when he comes back, he’s going to be well rested and worse than ever - they’ll be at it like rabbits!”

By the end of this Sid’s face is scarlet and he’s protesting loudly but is being ignored except for some chirping from Tanger. The mood in the room has shifted; an argument has broken out as to whether it’s worse to have the room above Sid and Geno’s or the room next to it, with both positions being hotly defended. Horny surveys the room with a satisfied grin and then moves to sit down. 

“Well, that worked better than expected,” he says to Cully, nodding acknowledgement to Justin, Olli, Bones and Shears who are also sat on the table. 

“Nicely done,” agrees Cully. “Although I’m not sure that Sid agrees with your approach, I think we were willing to listen to someone telling us it’s not as bad as it feels.” 

They all glance over at Sid whose face is still flaming but is now engaged in conversation with Tanger and Flower and Dales. 

“We can’t let Geno’s injury get on top of us,” Horny replies. “It’s bad. But we’re a good team even without him. Sully keeps telling us we’re resilient; now we need to be able to prove that. And if that means we don’t panic about losing him, not get inside our own heads, then we won’t.” He scoots his chair back a little from the table, raises his voice once more. 

“Ok, who’s going to be last down this morning? $5 buy in, winner takes all!”

0--0--0

Resilience becomes a theme. It has been anyway, Justin reflects, but it’s being emphasised even more so, as Sully gives out the new line combinations, moving centres around to try to rebalance the lines with Scotty and Geno absent. Justin gets the feeling that Sully would totally have approved of Horny’s words at breakfast, as Sully pretty much says the same thing - only he doesn’t bring Sid and Geno’s sex life into it. But he does emphasise that they are a good team even without Geno, and that they are a resilient team and that they can get to the play-offs without him. As always, listening to Sully, Justin feels his shoulders going back instinctively, taking on the responsibility, the knowledge that they can do this. Sully is so certain of it that it infects the team and the confidence is back again. 

As they’re changing after practice though, Sully calls over to Justin. 

“Can I have a word?” 

Justin feels his heart sink. It’s not unexpected, but he’d started to feel like he was going to escape the talking-to about his play yesterday in the aftermath of Geno’s injury. He follows Sully out of the locker room. His face is neutral, Justin can’t get a read from it. 

“Tell me about the goal yesterday,” he says to Justin. 

Fuck. It’s going to be one of those dressing downs, where he has to admit to all his failings, then the coaches tell him what ones he’s missed and how bad he is. He tries to steel himself, make himself sound professional, like he’s analysing someone else’s game, but he can feel the lump in his throat, his slightly panicked breathing. 

“The Jackets broke out and had a 2-on-1 with me as the defence. I gave up too much space on them going back and they were able to make the pass which left Flower stranded and unable to get back in position on time. I should have been more aggressive, played it better to stop that pass going over.” He’s curled up inside, waiting for the condemnation, braced for it. 

Sully nods. “Nearly. Here’s how it looked to us from the bench.” Justin finds his hands clenching, waiting for the next part. “Rusty didn’t drop back enough when Colesy jumped up, letting the Jackets get a good break-out. You were perfectly in position to drop back, and you did. Yes, you went back a little too quickly, but they had a lot of speed on and if you hadn’t, you risked them blowing past you. You timed your drop well to try and prevent the pass, making it a lot more difficult for them. Stoll had to make a pretty good saucer pass which got a bit of a lucky bounce.” He looks at Justin. “All in all, there’s not much to fault with how you played that defensively. They played it well, got a bit lucky and got the goal. 2-on-1s are high risk for the team defending them and no matter how good we are sometimes we aren’t going to be able to stop the other team scoring - much as we might like to. The error happened in us letting it happen at all, and we’ve gone over with Rusty what he needs to do in the future and we’ll be looking at it in video later so we all learn from it. But we thought you were beating yourself up for what you did in the play.” He looks to Justin, waiting for a response. Justin finds himself struggling for words; he hadn’t expected to be given an almost pat on the back for what he’d thought of as a fuck up and he’s all over the place now. 

“But they scored and I couldn’t stop them! I fucked up.” His voice cracks as he says it. Those were the last words he’d wanted to admit to, but somehow, they’re the ones which made it out. His face goes scarlet as he realises what he’s just said. 

Sully shakes his head. “Look, we want our players to take responsibility for their actions. But that also means being able to accept that sometimes there’s not much we can do. I can’t comment on what happened with you and the Oilers, but here, we’re only going to hold you responsible if we feel you are responsible for something. That goal is not on you and you didn’t fuck up.” He smiles wryly. “Don’t tell anyone else I said this, but there are other players on the ice and we don’t have complete control over all outcomes. Sometimes, despite everything we do, the other team do things right too. You pretty much did everything right there, but it wasn’t enough to stop a goal. That’s just how things are sometimes.”

“Justin, you had a goal scored on you, and you went back out and you didn’t let it affect how you played and you played how we wanted you to for the rest of the game. There are always things we can improve - there’s no such thing as a perfect game. But you did what we wanted of you, and what we expected of you. Putting that goal on you would be blaming you, not taking responsibility and we’re not going to do that. It may be you’re used to that from other places - as I said, I can’t really comment on that - but it’s not going to happen here. When you do something wrong, you’ll hear about it from me or Jacques or Rick, believe me. We’ll work with you so you know what went wrong and how to avoid it in the future, so you can learn from it. If you’re not hearing from us, then you haven’t done anything wrong. Clear?”

Justin feels like a deer caught in the headlights. The blood is roaring in his ears as what he believes collides head on with what his coach is telling him. How can it be that simple? But he finds he wants to accept it so much, to let the pain of being bad on this occasion go, but it’s like he’s at war with himself. Sully seems to be expecting an acknowledgement of what he’s been saying so he nods, jerkily, certain he doesn’t want to speak again, not sure what’s going to come out this time if he does. 

Sully holds his gaze a while longer, considering. “I think we’ll take that as a work in progress,” he murmurs almost to himself, before refocusing on Justin. “If you have any questions, come speak to me about it. Try to believe what I’ve just said as I wouldn’t say it if it’s now how I see it. But you’re doing good kid. Keep it up. I like how you’re working, and keep listening to those instincts about shooting the puck and when to jump into the play. You’re giving us more options and I like that.” He pats Justin on the shoulder, then walks off, conversation done. 

Justin leans back, slumping against the wall of the corridor, happy to take the support at that moment. He feels really messed up. He feels like the coaches should just acknowledge that he fucked up so he can move on from it and not keep on wondering when they’re going to realise what a bad player he is. But he desperately wants to be proved wrong too - for the coaches to be right when they say he’s doing well and that he wasn’t to blame - he almost angrily stops his thoughts at that - that he wasn’t responsible for the goal last night. But if they are right, then what the fuck was Edmonton all about? Was that on him or not on him? 

He scrubs his face with his hands, trying to move beyond his doubts and uncertainty, trying to face going back into the locker room with all of that carefully tamped down, showing his professional hockey face. In some ways, this is harder than his last days in Edmonton. There he had just felt crap all the time and had had to mask that. Now though, he’s not even sure what he’s feeling and it’s so much more exhausting keeping that hidden away, especially since so many people have taken an interest in him. 

A thought strikes him as he goes to open the door, leaving his arm stranded in mid-air, frozen in place by it. Does he really need to keep all of that hidden away? The team have been nothing but supportive of him, encouraging to him and some of them - Duper, Dales, Olli - have even gone out of their way to talk to him about how he’s been doing since the trade. 

As he’s frozen in place by that thought and the implications of it, the enormity of actually not having to keep pretending all the time, the locker room door opens and Olli slams to a halt, looking surprised at seeing Justin just standing there, hand raised to push open the door. 

“Hey,” he says uncertainly. “I was just coming to see if you were ok, you’ve been gone a while.” 

Justin drops his arm down, trying to focus on the now and the here and Olli. “Yeah,” he replies. “Coach wanted to speak to me about the goal yesterday. But he’s done so I was just coming back to finish changing.” 

Olli gives him a look he can’t read, no matter how much he’d like, but steps back to let him into the locker room. 

“Don’t worry, you’re not the last,” he says cheerfully. “Guys have only just finished doing media.” 

Holding up the rest of the team had been the least of Justin’s concerns up until then, but at least he knows he’s not going to delay them. Most of the room is empty now, dressed players congregating where they can scrounge coffees before getting on the bus for the journey to the team hotel. He begins stripping off his UnderArmor, as Olli sits down in the stall next to him. 

“What did Coach have to say?” Olli asks. 

“Just wanted to let me know that he was happy with how I’d handled the breakaway last night, even though they got the goal.” 

“Of course he was. You did everything to make that play as difficult for them as you could,” Olli says confidently. But then he looks hard at Justin. “You do know that right? You played that like a textbook defence. They could use how you did that to teach little kids how to play a breakaway.”

“They got the goal,” Justin responds shortly. “I didn’t play it well enough.”

“That’s crazy,” Olli says resolutely. “We’re fantastic D-men, but we’re only human, we’re not miracle workers. And that’s not what Coach told you either, you said it yourself. He’s happy with what you did. If he didn’t feel you had done a good job, you would know all about it. Trust me on that! Don’t be too hard on yourself man. We have to aim to improve, but we have to be realistic as well and set ourselves goals which are achievable.”

There’s a bit of Justin which wants to laugh at Olli sounding so much like a sports psychologist. Blonde, dimpled cherubic boy-man that he is, it seems very inappropriate. But because Olli does, Justin knows he’s probably right too. It felt a lot hearing it from his coach, but it feels equally as heavy hearing it from a colleague and a peer and someone who is and is going to be a much better player than Justin could ever hope to be. 

He glances over at Olli. “It’s hard to believe that somehow, it wasn’t my fault.”

Olli’s face tightens and for a moment, Justin thinks it’s in anger at Justin’s patheticness, and his gut twists, but he relaxes quickly when he realises Olli’s indignant instead. 

“I really don’t know what you were told in Edmonton, but we’re going to keep telling you that that goal was not on you until you believe it.” 

In that instant, Olli reminds him of Ebs, protective and insisting that the team were being unfair and that Justin was taking on too much blame. It makes him smile; he’s not sure what he does to deserve such defenders, but he appreciates - very much - having them. 

“Look, it’s hard ok? You don’t understand how different things are for me here, how different the team is. I’m trying, but I’m still a bit caught between the Oilers’ way of doing things and the Penguins’ way of doing things - it’ll take time to get my head around that. But what you said, it does help, ok? And I appreciate that.” He wants to reach out, touch Olli, but isn’t brave enough to do it. So he shrugs instead. “I’m going to go get my shower, or I really will be the last. Why don’t you go join the other coffee vultures?”

Olli looks like he wants to say something more, but after a quick glance around the room, he appears to recognise that there’s a lot of truth in Justin’s statement about being last. Instead he agrees, leaving Justin to head for the showers, giving him some time to think. And there’s a lot to process and he kind of really doesn't even know where to start. But he’s answered one question he does realise. Somewhere along the way, he’s decided he doesn’t need to keep everything locked away or he wouldn’t have been so open with Olli just now. There’s nothing in that conversation which was bad, even when it left him feeling pretty exposed, and while he’s been given yet more to think on, he thinks feels better for having had it. Huh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Friday! I know you've had a lot of angst over the past few chapters... there is more ahead, but we're definitely trending upwards now.


	12. How to please your goalie

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to face the Rangers again and Flower is suddenly all too aware that what he said about Lundqvist might come back to bite him.

He’s not sure if it is the memory of the conversations he’s had, cocooning him with something to keep the bad thoughts at bay or just his body fed up of the driving thrum of anxiety which has made sleep difficult again, but he sleeps well before the game. Just as well, as it’s an afternoon game. 

The locker room is lighter than he expected, Geno’s empty stall a reminder of what they are missing, but there’s a sense of purpose too about the team. 

“Listen up!” says Flower suddenly above the hubbub of the room and it quietens for him. Justin catches the anxious look Sid sends to Tanger, like they have no idea what Flower is planning to do. If they don’t know, no wonder they look anxious. It really could be anything. 

“We need to win tonight.” He’s forced to stop by the round of laughter and chirping in the locker room and raises his voice some more to be hear. “NO! We really need to win tonight! Last time we played the Rags, I said those things about Lundqvist and he’ll want me to eat pucks all night for revenge. So we need to win tonight so I can beat him in his barn too and be so smug and condescending towards him!”

Kuni has his head in his hands; Tanger has his head back on his stall, gazing at the ceiling, laughing. 

Sid’s grinning too, but his eyes are fond. “Right guys, you heard the Flower. We need to win this one for him so he isn’t going to regret trolling Lundqvist. One win, by order of our goalie.” 

Flower grins back in response. “Thank you. It’s not much to ask after all. But regret? Je ne regrette rien!”

“I thought it was too much to ask,” says Tanger thoughtfully to the ceiling through his laughter. “Flower would never have remorse about any trolling he did.”

Flower looks at him, narrowed eyes. “Trolling is such a strong word. I prefer to think of it as sharing my wisdom!”

It’s only his goalie reflexes which let him catch the balled up tape Horny launches at his head from across the room. 

“Huh!” exclaims Phil. “Keep doing that Flower, we’ll be good.”

0--0--0

MSG is loud and raucous and it’s pretty apparent there is no love lost between the Pens and the Rangers. 

It quietens down a lot when Horny scores on the PP though, a goal worked by the entire PP team before Horny gets it in, including to his quiet elation, Justin himself. He’d seen the play, made the play, patiently holding in the corner until he could get the puck back to the blue line, which ultimately had it ending up on Horny’s stick and bouncing in off Lundqvist. No assist, but he knows he wasn’t a passenger on that one and feels the warm glow of pride as he skates along the front of the bench, taking the fist bumps. 

He’s sure he doesn’t image a howl of delight from the direction of the Penguins’ net. It’s kind of loud over the sudden hush in MSG and Lundqvist is studiously avoiding looking in Flower’s direction. 

MSG gets a lot louder however when Rangers equalise, Kreider slipping it past Flower. Justin isn’t on the ice, but even from here, he can see how pissed Flower is. 

“We’ll get it back boys,” says Cully calmly, from further down the bench. “Just keep going in on Lundqvist, he didn’t like that first goal from Horny. Keep pushing him.”

But that’s it for the first period. 

0--0--0

“I ask you for one little thing!” Flower says in the locker room in the intermission. “I never ask for anything. Just get me the win!”

“Stop the pucks at your end Flower and we will,” replies Shears, a grin on his face as he re-applies tape. 

“What the fuck? I’ve been like a fucking wall this period! I’m exhausted with how many pucks I've had to stop, while you boys skate pretty circles around Lundqvist. I’m sure he’s getting dizzy, but you need to get the puck past him. I’m holding up my end of the bargain.” He flops back, exaggeratedly, into his stall. “Murs might need to start if you don’t start spending some time in the offensive end, I’m not sure how much more is in me.”

“But we like spending time with you Flower,” responds Shears. “Your language is always so educational!”

“You really should mind your language around the mongooses though. You’ll teach them bad habits. They’re just kids,” cuts in Tanger. 

“What the fucking fuck? They were born old. You’re honestly trying to suggest that Rusty, Shears and Tommy were ever innocent?” 

The locker room turns to look at the three named, pretty much en masse. The three grin back, completely at ease with the discussion about them in a way which has Simon, newly called up from WBS goggling at them. 

“He’s got a point,” says Sid consideringly. “Innocent is not a word I’d use to describe them.” 

Justin has to laugh at the way the three preen at Sid’s words, obviously seeing a compliment in them. 

“And you’ve diverted me from my point. Which is beating Lundqvist. Which we are going to do!” replies Flower. 

“Yes, we are,” says Sully as he enters the room, just in time to catch the last of what Flower is saying. He points to the white board. “And here’s how….”

0--0--0

Sully’s tweaks explain how the shot count for the Rangers has dropped dramatically in the second while the Penguins are now getting a lot more shots on goal and getting pressure on Lundqvist. 

The team is starting to pick up speed, hustling now, pushing the Rangers out of their comfort zone, spending more time in the Rangers’ end, harrying and harassing. When he and Colesy go over the boards behind Ferhrsie’s line, the mongooses are creating havoc again, pugnacious on the puck, fighting for it with tooth and claw. Colesy pinches in, so Justin drops back a little, only to watch the puck come squirting out towards him as the Rangers miss a pass. The players who had been battling for the puck in the corner are now fanning out quickly, but Justin sees the chance and wrists it towards the goal, as fast as he can, towards Shears now standing in front of Lundqvist. Shears gets a tip to it, and his arms swing up high in celebration as it bobbles past Lundqvist, going in the wrong direction, beaten by the misdirection. Justin can hear the bench behind him erupt as he glides over to hug Shears in celebration, both of them grinning ear to ear.

“Great shot man!” exclaims Shears as the others on ice join them and then they’re peeling off to skate past the bench, fists held high. Justin can feel the warm glow of pride; he’s been able to repeat what he did in his first game, it wasn’t just a flukey play. He can do what he Pens have been hoping of him, bring more offence into the game. He’s still a bad defender, but this, he remembers how to do and it feels good that he can give this to the Pens after what they’ve done for him. 

But the Rangers just won’t die. They pull it back on a PP shortly after while Horny sits forlornly in the box and then both teams settle down to some furious back and forth for most of the second. 

Eventually though, it’s the mongooses again who break the deadlock, Tommy firing the puck to a streaking Shears, sprinting the length of the ice to break in alone and snap the shot over Lundqvist’s shoulder. If Justin had thought Shears’ grin was big before, it’s blinding now as he settles back down on the bench, to a slap on the back from Sully. 

But although the Rangers tie it up in the third again - to a cry of outrage from Flower - the mongooses are running rampant in the game. They’ve obviously taken to heart what’s been said about stepping up in Geno’s absence, and emboldened by their success in the game, they are everywhere and irrepressible. 

“Maybe we should just sit back and let the kids play this one eh?” Phil says on the bench, watching Rusty streaking up the ice, only to be turned away. “They certainly seem to be having fun!”

“Oh sorry, we thought you were already!” responds Shears instantly, still grinning brightly. Justin thinks he hasn’t stopped since his second goal. On another team what he said might have sounded snarky; an accusation that one line isn’t pulling their weight. Here, it’s an acknowledgement that the mongooses are hot, hot, hot tonight and loving it. 

“We’ve got to let you have your fun. Sometimes we just need to accept that you are all grown up now and can go out into the world without us. And Lundqvist seems to be enjoying playing with you,” Hags shrugs. “Flower’s certainly enjoying you playing with Lundqvist!”

Then suddenly they’re on their feet cheering as Cully somehow has scored from behind the net on Lundqvist. 

“What the fuck happened?” Horny asks. “How the hell did he get that in?”

“Did it come off Staal? Or Lundqvist? Can’t see how else it could have happened,” Sid answers. 

“Wily beaut!” shouts Kuni as Cullen steams past for the fist bump, eyes as bright as any mongoose. 

“Flukey fucker!” shouts Flower from where he’s skated closer to the bench for the fist bumps, grinning widely behind his mask. 

They crane up to the screens overhead to watch the replays. 

“Fucking hell!” exclaims Tanger as they watch the puck bounce off Mark Staal’s skate and past Lundqvist. “That’s the kind of thing that gives d-men nightmares!”

“That’s our job!” says Cullen, coming back to the bench in time to hear this. “Although really, unbelievably lucky. All I was trying to do was centre it!”

“We’ll take them however they come. And you got the luck because you were doing the right thing,” says Sid, standing up to get on the ice for the face-off. “Good job Cully!”

0--0--0

Justin only gets one more shift until the end of the game, Sully preferring to rotate his top two pairs to try and maintain the slender lead. It works, holding the Pens’ lead until the final two minutes, when Lundqvist is pulled to allow the extra attacker on for the Rangers. It’s in vain though - the mongooses go to work and get a turnover, getting the puck to Sid for the empty netter and Flower’s requested win. He’s ecstatic. 

“Best present you’ve ever given me!” he crows in the locker room afterwards. “The look on Henrik’s face!”

“Better than the cup?” asks Tanger. 

“Hey, I earned that, you didn’t give it to me!” He shakes his head in disbelief. 

Justin can’t help but laugh. He’s had a good game and he’s happy to just enjoy the feeling of contentment he’s feeling, for once not anxious and questioning his own abilities. He knows he contributed to the win tonight, that he held his place and helped his team win. Watching Shears get the warrior’s helmet, seeing his enthusiasm rewarded and acknowledged by the team - it’s all a great place to be and he suddenly realises he feels heartfull to be part of this. That he feels like he’s not an outsider, that he’s part of this now, that the team has accepted him into their fold. The way his conversation fits in with the patterns ebbing and flowing around him, that he’s starting to build routine within the team’s routine, to not have to worry about upsetting his team mates in his efforts to fit in. The realisation manages to be startling to him, but in a good way and he can’t help but grin as he goes about his post game changing. 

“You look happy,” says Dales, seeing the look on his face. 

If anything, Justin feels his grin grow wider at that, that someone should recognise what he’s feeling. “After a game like that, it’s easy to be,” he responds easily, to an acknowledging grin from Dales.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Deeply ironic that I'm posting this game this week! What an up and down week against the Rangers but the game on Wednesday was amazing, even if I wanted the final goal to be Schultz's, not Cully's. 
> 
> Also if you haven't seen Rusty, Bones, Tanger and Schultzy trying to play NHL17 then go check it out https://www.nhl.com/penguins/video/nhl-17-penguins-promo-110316/t-277437428/c-45968103?tag=playerId&tagValue=Justin%20Schultz basically all Justin does is giggle. 
> 
> Happy Thanksgiving to the Americans amongst us!


	13. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin's first home game is probably not what he expected.

Two days later, Justin is arriving in Console to play in his first home game; until now, the only games he’s seen at Consol have been from the press box and then they’d hit a run of road trips. The team seems more relaxed, back on their home turf. It’s his first time wearing the black and gold jersey and hearing the crowd’s cheer as his team is introduced sends a shiver down his spine. 

Unfortunately, it’s a grind of a game, certainly not a classic to please a crowd. It turns into a goalkeeping dual, made frustrating by the fact that the Islanders have their third string goalie in. Kuni manages to tip in a shot from Dumo late on in the first, but that’s been it for the Pens. 

“Trust us to make him look like he’s a Vezina nominee!” mutters Olli bitterly as he skates by Justin en route to the face-off, early in the third. The Islanders are doing everything in their power to protect their inexperienced goalie and he’s managing to stop what shots are getting through. The Pens have a slender one goal lead and the entire bench knows not to trust it, but for all their pushing, they’re just not getting another. 

Then they don’t even had a one goal lead. Bonino gets called for slashing and the Islanders convert on the PP, with only a few minutes left in the third. The Pens just can’t get another, even through the five minute overtime period, although they are dominating the Islanders through it. Sully’s face is tight and hard as he checks with his potential penalty takers, asking who feels up to it, deciding order. 

“We can still do this,” he says. “Berube’s not done a penalty shoot-out in the NHL before and we’ve got Flower. This is our game for the taking. It’s on our ice. Concentrate on getting the puck past Berube, ignore everything else. Sid, you’re up first. Tanger, you’re next, then Phil. 

Justin nudges Colesy. 

“Tanger?” he asks. 

“Yeah, he’s usually one of the penalty takers, he’s wicked good at it. Just proves to the forwards they need us holding their hands in everything!” 

Justin leans forward watching as Sid takes to the ice, skating gently in circles until the referee signals he can start. He moves in with pace, but Berube anticipates him to a groan from the crowd. Flower stonewalls Nielsen, much to the crowd’s delight. 

Tanger is next up and he dangles a little before he backhands it over Berube’s pads, goal light going on and the bench and the crowd erupting. He skates apparently nonchalantly back to the bench, but his eyes are crinkling and he takes the fist bumps with a certain smugness. 

“Don’t say a word!” says Sid. 

“Certainly not Captain,” replies Tanger. “Just thought someone with your experience would have beaten Berube. Do you want me to give you some lessons?”

Sid just looks at him, and Tanger is laughing back at him down the bench, riding the adrenalin, when they realise Okposo is starting his penalty. That shuts the bench up as they concentrate on watching the Islander. 

They needn’t have worried. Flower stops that too and the bench are on their feet, cheering him for giving them the lead. 

Phil’s up next with a chance to win it. The crowd are on their feet, cheering him on, but his shot doesn’t get past Berube either and he skates back to the bench. 

“Sorry fellas,” he says dejectedly. Horny slaps him on the back in commiseration, before turning to watch Tavares take to the ice. 

“Too slow,” says Tanger, shaking his head, watching Tavares set off. 

“Too slow,” agrees Sid. “Can’t beat Flower like that” as Tavares approaches the goal carefully. Flower tries for the poke check, but misses, but throws off Tavares’ shot so is still easily able to absorb the shot into his pads. 

The team almost freeze for a moment - beating Tavares can’t be that simple - until the roar from the crowd gets them moving again, heading down ice fast to congratulate a jubilant Flower. 

0--0--0

Flower’s jubilation continues through the post game and getting changed, and, as Justin thinks deservedly so. It was an elite display of goaltending, that pulls them closer to a divisional rival, strengthening their hold on the play-off spot they’re currently in. He also pulled them out of a hole and Justin worries about the fact that they hadn’t been able to beat Berube tonight, worries if that means the team was simply running hot and are now going cold again. 

“Why the face?” Tanger happens to be leaving the locker room at the same time. “We did win!” 

“Oh, nothing much. Was good to get the W. But just seemed like we should have beaten them before the shoot-out,” Justin says. 

Tanger shrugs. “Yeah, in honesty, probably. But we didn’t lose by playing badly. Sure, we could have been tighter, taken a few more opportunities, but we did create a tonne as well. I’m sure Sully will tell us tomorrow in video where we could have done better. But Islanders are a much better team than they used to be as well. So long as we keep playing how we should, that’s the main thing; sometimes things won’t go to plan.” He lowers his voice to an imitation of Sully. “Trust the process; play the right way; control what we can control!”

Justin has to smile at that. Even being on the team such a short time, he’s been noticing the Sully mantras. And Tanger’s imitation is wickedly accurate. 

“I guess it feels almost an anticlimax win,” he replies. 

“Yeah, I get what you mean,” Tanger nods. “But still a win. Still get that point back on them, still stay ahead of the Flyers…”

What else he might have said is lost in the yell from behind him. 

“HEY SCHULTZY, WAIT UP!!!” 

Justin startles, glancing back to see Rusty pounding up the corridor. He can’t believe Rusty can still move that quickly after the game. There’s a huff of laughter from his right. 

“Mongooses,” says Tanger under his breath. “Way too much energy!” 

“Sorry man, meant to catch you before you left but you slipped away,” says Rusty, only huffing slightly. “There’s a thing we do on Wednesdays if we don’t have a game, wanted to make sure you knew about it and knew you were invited. Just any guys who want to, come along and have a couple of beers and play some pool.” He looks at Justin anxiously. “Didn’t want you to think you wouldn’t be welcome, would be awesome if you could make it.” 

Tanger nods. “Good thought Rusty, I’m not sure anyone has mentioned it?” he glances across to Justin, seeking confirmation. “Olli usually goes.”

“Yeah,” replies Rusty. “It’s usually the younger guys, not the old marrieds like Tanger, but it’s great when they can make it too,” he finishes quickly, voice rising as he speeds up, hoping to stave off Tanger’s wrath at the description he has used. 

“When you go home to a beautiful wife and an adorable son like I do, you too will understand why that is more appealing than going to shoot some pool with a bunch of hockey players,” Tanger replies with dignity. And then he grins, suddenly turning boyish. “Of course, sometimes, it’s great to go to the bar, spend some time with the guys, knowing my beautiful wife and adorable son are safely at home.” 

Justin laughs at that. “Thanks Rusty, sounds like fun! Message me the details? If you tell me now, there’s no way I’ll remember. My Pittsburgh navigation is still pretty bad.”

“For sure!” replies Rusty. “Anyway I need to get going, Scotty was bitching about being out of juice so I said I’d pick him some up on the way home.” 

Tanger frowns. “He knows the training team will help with stuff like that? How’s he doing anyway?”

“Yeah, I know that. He seems reluctant to ask them and it’s no biggie for me to do it on the way back. He’s at least able to get around the apartment but the trainers are still wanting him to stay off it as much as possible for a few days more. He’s kind of hating that. Well, I guess most of us would - enforced idleness!” 

He pulls a face of disgust and picks up speed along the corridors and Justin has to smile at the thought of any of the mongooses being forced to stay in one place for long. Idleness is not a mongoose trait - well except maybe Murs who seems to have all the calmness and patience the others lack. 

Tanger just shakes his head ruefully, watching him. “I remember the days when I had that much energy!”

Justin sighs. “I’m not sure I ever did.”

“Hey, you’re not that much older than them,” says Tanger. 

“I don’t think you could ever call me a mongoose,” he replies. Tanger looks him over head to foot. 

“Nooo,” he says thoughtfully, drawing out the word. “You’re not ginger enough.” And then smirks at Justin, like he knew that’s not at all the answer Justin was expecting. A laugh is surprised out of Justin. 

“Oh for sure.” He grins again. 

They’ve reached the car park by now, so say their farewells and head their separate ways.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's all getting to be a bit coincidental which games we are playing in real life versus where we are in last season. Much happier outcome then! There is something about Isles goalies and the Pens though. 
> 
> There was a theme when the mongooses started growing in their beards - suddenly they all looked speedy, ginger and bearded and seemed a bit interchangeable at first (Well except Conor Sheary who is Sid like in his inability to grow a beard). 
> 
> I'm early as tomorrow will be a very long day, but I had the choice of fairly short or very long update. I'm afraid I went with fairly short!


	14. A game of pool and a beer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin joins the Penguins for a game of pool and a beer...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those who have been sitting patiently through endless chapters of hockey finally, no hockey in this one... there's feelings and plot and more feelings in this one....

It’s a relatively small group which meets in the bar Rusty had messaged him; the mongooses without Scotty are crowded around the pool table. Olli grins at him in greeting, and Horny hops down from his bar stool to organise a beer for him from the pitchers on the table. Colesy nods at him while still continuing to talk at Hags - Justin has no doubt that Hags is barely able to get a word in edgewise. 

“Hey man, glad you made it!” says Horny, handing him the beer. “We always just get pitchers - hope you’re cool with that.” 

Justin nods. “Wouldn’t want to go hard anyway with the game tomorrow,” he replies. 

“For sure,” says Hags, interrupting Colesy. “Imagine Sully if you turn up hungover on game day!”

“No one’s done it then?” Justin asked interestedly. 

Colesy laughs. “Not here, not with Sully. You hear stuff and see stuff on other teams, but Sully?” He makes a horrified face. 

“I saw it happen in Edmonton,” replies Justin. “You know when you’re out the playoffs and you know you’re not going to be on the team next season, some guys…” he shrugs, not wanting to finish. He looks around at them, realises that none of them have played on teams with so little hope as the Oilers, don’t know what it’s like to perpetually fail, to not even be able to dream of making the playoffs. 

“Well, we’re not going to be out the playoffs,” says Olli. 

“For sure,” says Hags. 

“You’re going to be out of the pool game though if you don’t get your stakes in the pot soon,” says Shears, as he leans across the table to grab the pitcher to top off his beer. He looks to Justin. “It’s $20 buy-in, knock out, winner takes all.”

“Oh, I’m not very good at pool,” says Justin. “But I’ll do my best.”

0--0--0

Three hours later, and Phil groans as Justin pots his last ball. There are several of Phil’s balls still spread across the table. 

“Not very good at pool,” Phil repeats bitterly. “We should have known, no-one ever says that unless they’re looking to shake you down.” 

Justin grins at him.

“Well, I thought asking how you played this game would have been a bit too obvious. But for all I knew, you were all pool aces! We played some in college when we weren’t playing hockey.” 

“Some?!” says Rusty disbelievingly, shaking his head. 

Olli laughs. “Well, we know who’ll definitely be here next Wednesday….”

Justin watches understanding of Olli’s words spreading around the group, laughter following in its wake. He shoots a puzzled glance at Olli, looking for an explanation. 

“Tanger won’t like having his pool supremacy questioned,” responds Horny, eyes creased with laughter. “If we didn’t have such a tight schedule, he’d probably try to get us down at the weekend.” 

“Is he good?” asks Justin. 

“Oh if you ask him, he’ll probably say he’s not very good,” says Phil, staring at Justin meaningfully. “But yeah, he usually wins. Also, he hates to lose.”

“Really hates it,” confirms Hags. “It’s always good to watch!”

“You really need to stop challenging him to sprint races just so you can laugh at his face when you beat him,” says Phil. 

Hags just shrugs. “It’s fun! Keeps me sharp as well, he is pretty fast.” 

“And you hate to be beaten at that too,” says Murs. 

“That too,” grins Hags. “Hey we wouldn’t be here now, if we didn’t hate to lose, it’s just Tanger translates that to everything in his life.”

“He’s played too long with Sid,” says Horny. There are a bunch of head nods around the group at that. “Just as well Sid doesn’t play pool.” Heads are being nodded even harder. 

“Tanger and Sid would have epic pool matches if Sid played!” Rusty’s eyes are wide at the thought. “Clash of the guys who hate to lose. Unstoppable force meets immovable object.”

“They’d be here forever. ‘Let’s make it best of 3… let’s make it best of 5… let’s make it best of 715’” says Horny, chuckling. 

“Anyway, I want to see Justin beat Tanger,” says Olli. “So we need to make sure Tanger finds out about this.”

“He always asks who won,” says Rusty. “No problem, we’ll just tell him. He’ll be here next week for sure.” Then he pauses and looks at Justin anxiously. “You’ll come again though won’t you? Tanger’s reputation won’t scare you off?” 

“Well I’m not sure if I should be trying to beat him. I mean, he is the top D on the team and all, it seems like it would be disrespectful,” replies Justin, working hard at keeping a straight face. There’s a silence which follow his words, the guys glancing uncomfortably at each other. He takes a mouthful of beer, to hide the fact he’s struggling to not grin. 

Olli looks hard at him, eyes narrowed. “That’s bullshit and you know it,” he says decisively. “We don’t do that deferential crap, you said so yourself.” 

Justin lets his face relax, shows the grin which he’d had to fight hard to hide. “Yeah, but your faces were worth it.” 

The team relax around him, faces changing as they realise they’ve been suckered. 

“You fucker,” says Shears. “I thought you meant it. And who the fuck knows what went on with the Oilers? They could have done stupid stuff like that to their top D for all we knew.”

“Hey, I played top pair at the Oilers!” The words are out before Justin can stop them. 

“Well no wonder they were so bad then!” Shears flashes back at him, grinning hugely. 

He feels it like a blow to his stomach, skin turning cold and clammy. It hurts, Shears’ belief that the Oilers were bad because he was one of their top D-men. It hurts a lot because it says so much about what Shears thinks of him and the fact he can openly mock Justin’s hockey as though it’s no big deal, that it’s acceptable to laugh at Justin’s hockey. He knows he’s bad, but so far, the Penguins hadn’t acknowledged that and he’d thought, he’d hoped that he’d been playing better here. But they too have seen him for what he is and he feels his hopes crashing down again. He has to turn away, so they don’t see it on his face, blindly racking his cue to give him a reason for the retreat. He tries to tell himself it’s just a meaningless chirp, that Shears had said it in jest, but it hurts so fucking much. 

“Shears!” growls someone - Phil he thinks. Someone so laid back shouldn’t sound like that, he thinks absently through the searing pain. 

“It was a joke!” exclaims Shears, behind him. 

He takes a deep breath, tries to reset his face, hide the hurt. It was just a joke, Shears doesn’t know better he tells himself again, trying to feel that rather than the hurt echoing through his body. It’s ok to laugh at his hockey, he knows he’s a bad player. 

“It’s fine, I know it was just a joke, don’t worry about it,” he manages to get it out somehow. He doesn’t think he sounds that convincing, but he’s said it. 

“See, Schultzy knows I wouldn’t mean that about his hockey!” echoes Shears looking uncomfortably at the group. 

Justin nods. He glances at his beer, notices there’s only a little left and swallows it, giving him the perfect excuse to be able to escape. 

“Well, it’s game day tomorrow, I’d better head back,” he says, aiming for casualness. He’s not sure he manages the way that several of the guys are eyeballing him worridly. “Thanks for… “

He’s interrupted by Olli. 

“Wait up, there’s still beer left,” he says, snatching up a pitcher and dumping some of it into Justin’s glass, before distributing the rest around the group. “We can’t go until the beer’s done.” Olli glares at the group until they agree with that, nodding and grunting agreement. 

Justin looks at him. He’s not sure he can endure any more tonight, he just wants to get away but Olli’s just removed his easy escape route and to still insist on going would make his desire to get out of there way too obvious. 

“Yeah, don’t go yet!” says Shears. “I wanted to ask you about…” and he trails off. At another time, in another place, Justin would probably have been amused by the pitiful look he sends to the other mongooses as he clearly can’t think of anything he needs to speak to Justin about. Here and now, it just is another layer of hurt, a reminder that he, a joke defenceman from Edmonton, has so little to offer a group like this. 

Murrs calmly steps into the breach. “Yeah, we were talking about the west the other day, about which team we’d rather face if we make it, out of Ducks, Sharks or Kings. But you’ve seen a lot more of them than we have so wondered what you thought?” 

“Yeah, that!” says Shears. “And also, what Hags thinks of it because he came from there as well!”

There’s a murmur of agreement from around the group, Rusty nodding vigorously in agreement. Silence falls after Shears has finished speaking; Justin doesn’t know quite what to say. 

Hags nods. “Well for me, I’d want to face the Ducks!” He grins, wolfishly, before continuing. 

0--0--0

Somehow, the abstract hockey talk moves him on. Hags does have some interesting insights into the Ducks and their weaknesses. Justin does notice that anytime he tries to check out of the conversation, someone is there to ask him something, to draw him back in again. But at least he’s managed to draw the hurt deep down inside again, pushing it down for now, able to function within the group, act almost normally. 

But they do have a game tomorrow, and time is moving on inexorably. It’s Horny who stands up. 

“I think we need to go, it’s getting late,” he says, apologetically. There’s general agreement around the group and they move to exit the bar. Most of them leave to recover their cars; Justin had walked - the benefits of a downtown hotel - so after saying his farewells quickly he splits away, heading back to the hotel, starting to stretch out his legs. 

“Schultzy, wait up!” he hears from behind him. He almost rolls his eyes. He just wants to get away and back to his own space at the hotel. But he stops, turns around and Olli is jogging to catch up with him. 

“I thought you drove?” Justin asks. He knows he sounds short, can’t stop himself from sounding short. He’d hoped not to have to stand any more people, their nearness crawling on his skin now, even Olli. He starts walking again, Olli moving alongside. 

“I was going to walk you back to the hotel and check you’re ok,” Olli says and Justin finds his hackles rising. Can’t he even be trusted to find his way back to the hotel? But his train of thought is completely derailed by Olli continuing anxiously, disarmingly, “Shears is an idiot. Someday he’ll learn to think before he speaks, but there’s no sign of that happening anytime soon.” 

“I know he wasn’t thinking, it’s fine, honestly Olli,” Justin says. “You don’t need to see me home, we’ve got a game tomorrow, you need to get home and rest up.” 

“Nope, I don’t need to see you home, you’re right. But I don’t think it’s good for you either if I left.” He pauses and looks to Justin, who stares back at him, bemused. He’s not sure what Olli wants from him, he just wants to be left alone, swallow his pain and adapt to it but Olli doesn’t seem to want to do that. 

There’s silence to that. 

“Fine, so I’m going to have to do the talking tonight.” Olli smiles wryly. “You do know I’m 21 don’t you?” 

Justin stares at him, nods. He’s not sure what that means. 

Olli sighs, smile fading. “Look,” he begins, “I think you might still be struggling with how you are seen here compared with how you were seen in Edmonton. There you got a lot of blame for stuff and from what you said the other day, some of it was pretty fucking unfair. We, the Penguin players, can’t say how much was and wasn’t; all we can do is look at what you are doing with us. And you’re doing good with us. I know that might be difficult for you to understand but we've seen nothing that makes us think you're a bad player. We just don't think of you that way. We’ve seen only good stuff from you. So Shears’ comment was stupid and insensitive, but in his defence, and from his point of view, he thought it was an ok joke to make about a player he respects. No different from ragging on Colesy about his goal scoring.” He pauses and looks to Justin again. “Some of the guys can see you had a tough time in Edmonton but you're pretty closed off and not everyone gets that. Particularly not the mongooses; they've had their own battles but they've been different battles from yours so they’re not good at seeing how you’ve been affected by your time in Edmonton.”

“Look at it this way. Is Colesy a bad hockey player?” He continues, looking to Justin for an answer. 

“No,” says Justin. 

“Exactly,” says Olli as though Justin knows what he’s talking about. He really doesn’t, feeling more and more at sea in this conversation. “He’s not an elite player but he’s good in his role, he’s reliable and he gets the job done, plays the way Sully wants, gives the team what it needs. He’s not Tanger, but then only Tanger is Tanger and we can only dream that we can play like him. Move Colesy up to the top line - and Johnston tried it - and he’ll struggle, but he’s not a bad player, he’s a misused player who is good in the right place. Now, who does that remind you of?” He looks meaningfully towards Justin who does a double take as Olli’s meaning sinks in. “See? And sometimes we’re our own worst critics, way harder than anyone else is. I guess that wasn’t the case in Edmonton, but I think it could be here. I’m guessing you’re carrying on some habits from Edmonton and thinking we’ll behave like the guys in Edmonton, like we think of you like the guys in Edmonton. Not a surprise, it’s what you’ve known. But we aren’t the guys in Edmonton and I think how we see you is different from how they saw you. But I think you keep thinking - or worrying - that how you were seen in Edmonton is how you are thought of here. It isn’t. I’ll keep saying it. We’re seeing good stuff from you, we think you’re a good player. Not perfect, but you’ve got a lot to offer our team. We know you came with a reputation for bad play, but we haven’t seen that and we can only assess you on what we’ve seen. And that’s not bad stuff.” He falls silent, looking to Justin,

Justin gapes at him a moment. It’s been one of his biggest fears, that the Penguins will think he’s a bad player. Leaving Edmonton, convinced that he was, he’s had little glimmers of hope with the Penguins that maybe, just maybe, he isn’t as bad as he thought he was. That he can still be a good player and do good things for the team. But he’s still been scared that the team would know he was bad, that they’d see through him and know the good things he’s done here have been flukes that he can’t sustain. And then Shears had dashed his hopes, casually revealing what they thought of him and it had been the end of all his hopes, the understanding that his team mates would only ever see him as bad, a bleakness of recognition chilling him down to his very soul. But now Olli is telling him it’s not like that at all and he wants to grab that reassurance and cuddle it to him as hard as he possibly can, to wrap it around himself and use it to ward off the blackness and the inner voice which keeps telling him how bad he is. 

But it’s hard to just believe it. It seems too easy. Olli could just be saying it to make him feel better. Olli’s a nice guy who doesn’t want to see people hurting. But he remembers Shears’ face as well, the look as he’d tried to reassure Justin it was just a joke. He’d been worried and upset, even embarrassed. And Olli, while a nice guy, has not, so far as Justin knows, lied to Justin. He’s been honest. Even now, he hasn’t tried to tell Justin how fantastic his hockey is, he’s always been realistic in how he’s talked about Justin’s hockey. If he’d wanted just to make Justin feel better, he could have been more effusive. Instead, his descriptions ring true. 

Almost against his will, he finds himself taking in what Olli has just said and accepting it, feeling the warmth of his reassurance that Justin is not perceived as bad by the team. He can feel a weight settling off his shoulders, a tension he hadn’t known was there relaxing. It almost feels like he can breathe more freely, just from knowing that the guys on the team aren’t watching him with that combination of anger/pity/frustration he had felt from the guys in Edmonton. 

But now, he has to somehow carry on living up to what the Pens think of him. He’s still finding it hard to accept that he might not be a bad player but he wants to believe it. He just happens to think the Pens think he is a better player than he actually is, but he can also see, he hasn’t made any major fuck ups and he hasn’t let the team down yet. So they don’t have any reason to realise what kind of player he is. 

“I think you are right,” he says hesitantly. “I’ve been thinking the team is like the Edmonton guys and that’s not fair on you all. I mean I know I screwed up in Edmonton and the team let me know that and that they weren’t happy with it. You guys haven’t been like that. Even with the goal the other day, you and the coaches and Colesy kept telling me it wasn’t on me.” Olli gets a mulish look on his face, looks like he’s about to interrupt, but Justin waves at him, just carries on. “Yeah, yeah, I know. I’m working on believing it wasn’t down to me. Honestly. It’s a work but I’m getting there.” He choses to ignore Olli’s snort. He is trying and he is starting to believe it, to really think it, his head convincing his heart. He just can’t find it in him to admit how he feels about his own hockey still, afraid to own up to how bad a player he feels he is. 

“I guess I just find it hard to believe that when I do screw up, it’s not going to be like Edmonton. It wasn’t always bad there you know. And some guys stuck by me, regardless.” He smiles, remembering Ebs’ passionate defence and cheerleading. 

Olli shakes his head. “Two things. We all screw up at times. We’re not going to get on you for something that happens in one game. That’s not how our team works and Sid and the other As - and Tanger too - would be all over anyone who tried. Sully would be all over you so you know what you did and what you should have done and that’s his job but we wouldn’t. And if we slump like Edmonton were doing - then that can’t just be on you either. That’s the whole team doing it and no way are we going to scapegoat one person for it. We live and die as a team, whether we do well or badly. We’ve all felt what it’s like to be singled out by the media and the woes of the team blamed on you at times. Can’t control the media, but we can control our reaction as a team and we start by not doing that crap.” 

He smiles impishly. “Besides, look how well we are playing right now. Sid’s hot, Phil’s hot with Bones and Hagy, Tanger - I can’t believe how well he’s playing. He’s finding levels we didn’t know even he had! Yeah any of them could chill right now, but it’s feeling good for play-offs. Just need to keep playing the right way. And you can do that. You’ve come in and you have been doing it and fitting in with us.”

Justin finds himself blushing, looks down towards his feet. He still finds it weird to hear people praising his hockey. He just wants Olli to think well of him, really doesn’t want to see that disappointed look on his face. 

“You think I’ve been fitting in?” he asks, shyly. 

“On and off the ice,” says Olli confidently, smiling a little. Justin grins back at him for that, relief overwhelming, and Olli’s dimples break through in response. Relief unexpectedly gives way to a sharp feeling of want - he wants to lean forward and kiss those dimples, and kiss Olli, see what he tastes like, but he can’t. So he takes a deep breath, moves back slightly, schooling his face to something less happy, more controlled, battling himself to lock the emotions down. Olli’s dimples fade and dim, his face tightening. 

Justin realises they’re standing outside his hotel, staring at each other. 

“We’ve got the game tomorrow,” he says reluctantly. He kind of wants to invite Olli in, no matter how cliched that sounds, but there are so many good reasons not to. He hesitates and the silence grows and lengthens. He just can’t bring himself to say what he wants to say, knows he shouldn’t. 

Eventually Olli breaks the silence. “I’d better be going,” he says. “Another important game.”

“They’re all important games.” The truism is out before he can stop it but Justin hesitates. He can’t just leave it like this, not after what Olli’s said to him this evening, the way he’s pushed and pushed at Justin to make him listen to something that isn’t the negative voices in his head. “Thanks,” he says finally, still finding admitting vulnerability hard. “You didn’t need to come here and talk to me like this but you did and I do appreciate it. It does help.” 

Olli ducks his head in acknowledgement, shrugs. “Just trying to help. It’s hard to stand back and watch yourself beat yourself up when you don’t need to. You’re a better player, a better person than you think you are, you know?” He’s blushing slightly as he says it, but then so is Justin as he listens. “Anyway, I really need to get going. See you at the rink tomorrow!” He turns and starts walking down the street. 

“Text me to let me know you got home safely!” Justin calls after him. It’s not that late, but Justin doesn’t yet have a feel for whether it’s ok for Olli to walk around the streets by himself at this time. All he knows is that he’s not in Canada. 

Olli waves acknowledgement, not looking back and Justin watches him for a few seconds before turning and entering the hotel. 

Fuck, he’s so confused.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 5-1!!! and all the mongoose goals in the last few games. 
> 
> A few weeks I posted about how Conor Sheary had just derailed a section. Well, this is it. The original plan for this night out was that Justin went out, had a nice time, found out Olli was into men and went home happy. 
> 
> And then I was writing it, and Conor said his thing, and somehow completely derailed the scene. Thanks Shears! So he's left Justin hanging over Olli... more of that later then... 
> 
> Pool games and poolshark!Justin and poolshark!Tanger are not canon sadly. But if anyone is going to be a poolshark on that team, it's going to be Tanger...
> 
> Ok, I'm not going to do this often, but there's one remark I want to explain. Because it's complete head canon, and no way is Olli ever going to say to Justin why he says it...But when Olli says '“Fine, so I’m going to have to do the talking tonight.” Olli smiles wryly. “You do know I’m 21 don’t you?”' That is Olli complaining at the universe because he's realised Justin is emotionally constipated. He'd love Justin to open up without prompting, but when he doesn't, Olli has a wee moan to himself that he's the younger, supposedly immature guy, and he's having to do the heavy lifting on feelings.  
> And I suppose since I control the universe, he's actually bitching at me. Hmmmm. 
> 
> So hope you enjoy it. I've pretty nervous about this one actually and how it reads; it's been rewritten a fair amount!


	15. Balloons

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of pub night...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Relatively short one, as its another hockeyless week... so lots of feelings instead. And maybe some balloons.

Once in the lift, he leans back against the wall as he thinks about what he’s found out that evening. The rollercoaster he’s been on of thinking that the team think of his as a bad player, before being convinced that they don’t has left him feeling whiplashed and exhausted. But he’s still riding the relief that the team think well of him, that they don’t think of him as an anchor. But then that puts expectations on him that he has to meet if he doesn’t want to change how they see him, and he’s not sure he can do that. He can keep on trying; he can keep on listening to the coaches and trying to play they want him to. He’s already committed to doing that, he can keep on doing that and hope it’s enough. And Olli had said they wouldn’t get all over him for one fuck up. Even in Edmonton, it had taken more than that, it had been a series of missed plays and fuck ups and disappointing results before the fans had started booing, before the team had stopped being supportive and become indifferent or angry. So maybe, just maybe, he can do this. Maybe, what Olli has said is correct and the team will give him a chance, are giving him a chance. 

He prowls around his room, unable to relax enough to settle down. It’s not just what happened with Shears. It’s what happened with Olli too which has him unsettled. 

Until now, it’s been fairly easy to keep his sexuality and his professional hockey career apart. While he plays the game surrounded by good looking players, he’s kind of learned not to look in that way, so his attraction to Olli has taken him by surprise. He just knows he can’t go there. 

He has to keep reminding himself of the many reasons why not. He doesn’t even know that Olli is into guys - he’s a very nice guy who could just be helping out a new guy on the team and his smiles and his support and his blushes could be him just being friendly. He is pretty young after all. Most likely it is just him being friendly. In Justin’s experience, admittedly mostly limited to college, guys like him don’t attract guys like Olli. He’s also only been with the team for two weeks, way too new to risk it. Despite knowing that the team has accepted Sid and Geno, he doesn’t want to mess with the new relationships he’s making with the team. And he’s known Olli such a small amount of time - he might be confusing his own attraction for relief that someone is being nice to him and treating him in a friendly manner. Aside from Ebs and Seksy, he’s not used to that and he could just be latching on to the first friendly face. That actually sounds pretty plausible actually. 

As he potters around his room, finally relaxing, preparing for bed, he at least feels like he’s got one thing sorted and resolved; he can do nothing about his feelings for Olli. And at least Olli’s intervention has meant he hasn’t been chewing over what Shears had said to him. He can use Olli’s words as a defence, to drown out the voice which tries to mock him for his trust in the team and for trying to believe in himself as a hockey player. 

But just in case, he goes to sleep with the tv on, watching random late night things to soothe and distract him into sleep. 

He does sleep though. Eventually, 

0--0--0

When he awakens the next day, he discovers that subconsciously he has resolved something else. He wants to trust the team. The coaches have all been very open and honest with him; the players have been supportive - sometimes almost too supportive. He wants to be able to trust them and use whatever limited hockey abilities he has to give back and do whatever he can for them. He feels the rightness of that belief running through him, like a focus, a goal. When he left the Oilers, it was to a very uncertain future and under a cloud, and here, with the Penguins, he’s been able to see that maybe, it wasn’t all his fault. It feels like the cloud has lifted somewhat and he wants to give his all for a team that can do that for him. He said to Sully he wanted to play good hockey again, hockey he can be proud of. But now he wants to do that for this team, the coaches and the players who have given him a place and let him find some stability. Despite - or maybe because of - last night, he knows that while they might mess up, they wouldn’t do it deliberately or maliciously. 

It’s an enormous thought. He knows it’s dangerous to get too attached to a team, particularly a team where they have already said they will probably not be able to re-sign him next year. But they’ve already helped him so much, he wants to help them, even in his own extremely limited capabilities. He sets about his day with a new purpose and clarity of vision. 

0--0--0

He’s feeling a bit nervous as he walks into the locker room the next morning, unsure of facing the guys from the night before. However, all thought of that is driven completely from his head when he looks towards his stall. He can’t actually see his stall - it’s kind of filled by an enormous bunch of balloons. He stops and does a double take. 

“What the fuck?”

There’s a round of suppressed laughter around the locker room and the sound of a camera phone going off. Colesy gives him a dirty look from where he is battling through the balloons to get to his kit. 

“Would you come and move these fucking things?” he says irritably. 

“They can’t be mine! Why would anyone give me balloons?” Justin replies incredulously. 

Colesy looks at him sourly. “They’re in your stall. That would seem to make them yours.”

Justin leans forward to pick out the card attached to the strings. 

“HAPPY 2-WEEK ANNIVERSARY  
LOVE AND KISSES  
THE TEAM”

is written in elegant copperplate writing. He looks at it, then looks at the balloons. Everyone has a penguins logo on it. And then he looks harder as everyone also has a hand-drawn face on it, complete with a number… #14… #34… #28… #43…#3... #87… #7… #6… #29… #62… #71… As he looks, he realises he’s looking at the team’s numbers and they’ve each and every one personalised a balloon for him. 

He can’t stop a silly grin breaking out on his face. Dimly he hears the sound of more camera phones, but he’s really too blown away to take much notice. They’ve completely trolled him with balloons but fuck, it’s in such a good way and he finds himself filled with warm happiness at the gesture, so much so there’s a lump forming in his throat.. This just underlines his conviction of earlier. He doesn’t deserve this, he’s not a key player on the team he’s just a 3rd or 4th pair D-man, but they’re still doing big gestures like this for him, so why on earth would he not want to do everything he can to help these guys out?

He turns back to face them, still with what he knows is a completely stupid, dumbstruck look on his face. At least he’s not crying - somehow. Olli and Tanger have come in while he’s been staring at the balloons and their faces are grinning widely too. 

“Speech!” shouts Rusty from the mongoose corner. 

“Speech!” echoes Shears, stamping his feet. The calls are picking up around the locker room, until eventually he feels obliged to hold his hands up, calling for silence. He really has no idea what to say though. 

Well, why not start with that and go from there?

“I really have no idea what to say,” he says nervously. “I certainly didn’t expect this when I walked in this morning. I hadn’t even remembered it was my two week anniversary so thanks to whoever is keeping track.” He grins slightly, finding his way onto more certain ground. “It’s an amazing gesture and I’m blown away at the trouble you went to to find some balloons and draw on them for me.”

“Hey, don’t forget getting them blown up!” shouts Phil, grinning broadly. Justin nods in acknowledgement. 

“And blowing them up. With helium,” he replies, tugging at one of the strings to demonstrate. “But in honesty, you’ve made me feel very welcome throughout these two weeks. And nothing says that like a bunch of balloons! I just don’t know how you’ll be able to keep this up, but thank you very much.” And he grins at them, before turning back to his stall to start digging out his kit from behind the balloons. 

“We’re going to watch you trying to get them into your car after practice,” calls Cully. Justin frowns at him, knowing that’s going to be a nightmare. He’d been wondering if he could give them out to the spectators at practice, but apparently not. 

“We also need to know whose balloon lasts longest,” says Horny. 

He has a lightning flash of comprehension.. But surely not. “There’s a bet on it?” Justin asks with astonishment. 

“Well Sid and Tanger got into an argument on which of their balloons would last longest and it escalated from there,” replies Horny, with a big grin, and Justin is reminded of the conversation last night, of the competitiveness of Sid and Tanger. 

“That’s not true!” exclaims Sid indignantly. “We were having a discussion on it from a scientific point of view!”

Horny looks at him, incredulously. “A scientific point of view? Tanger said that ‘he’d fucking bet you ten fucking bucks his fucking balloon would last longer than your fucking balloon’. Doesn’t sound very scientific to me!” He’s grinning broadly; Justin laughs, picturing that. 

“We got a bit carried away,” admits Sid, face flushing. Tanger looks unrepentant. 

“My balloon will last longer,” he says with calm certainty. 

“No!” exclaims Kuni. “We’re not repeating this. Skate guys! We’ve got to get to skate.”

There are some grumbles around the locker room at that, but time has been ticking on and most of them have to get a serious move on to make it out to the ice on time. 

The team do laugh themselves stupid at his attempts to get the balloons into his car after skate. Sadly, only one bursts and it isn’t either Sid or Tanger’s.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Another scene with several rewrites to it, and I could probably keep working on it forever. So many feelings to deal with! He could probably sit and soliloquy for ever about them! 
> 
> And what a rollercoaster week for the Pens... three wins! Justin becoming a points machine!! (and so many good stories and interviews with him - he's looking so confident!) and Tanger =(((((


	16. Sidney Crosby does Sidney Crosby things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Despite everything, the season still continues... this time it's the Canes.

The good spirits of the team evaporate quickly on the ice against the Canes, when an errant pass presents the puck gift-wrapped and on a plate to Di Giuseppe right in in the slot from where he easily scores on Murs before even a minute has gone by. 

A series of curses comes from the bench in response. 

“Don’t just swear, go out there and do something about it,” says Sully behind them. 

Colesy missing his man behind the net during a fierce forecheck, leaving Justin stranded and too slow to block Nash’s wrister past Murs is probably not the response that Sully was looking for however, and Justin skates back to the bench to switch out with Olli and Tanger, head down, trying not to think about it too much. He could have done it better, he knows he should have done it better and part of him is watching to see if what Sully has said to him after the Jacket’s game has been false comfort. But although the coaches aren’t happy - no one’s happy - the lines keep rolling. But he looks across at Colesy and sees that no matter how bad Justin feels, Colesy is feeling it worse. His head is down at first and he’s unusually quiet. Justin elbows him on the bench. 

“We’ll get them next time,” he says. Colesy nods, face tilted towards him. 

“Shouldn’t have happened,” he replies. 

“Yeah, but we learn from it and move on. Long way to go, this game’s not over yet.” It seems odd to Justin to be the one offering support, but it seems to help, Colesy looking less uncertain and more determined. Even the affirmation that the game is a long way from over steadies Justin as well. 

It might have picked them up, but they’re still 2-0 down in around five minutes of playing time and the Cane’s forecheck is smothering them. They’re getting chances in the offensive end, but then the Canes are coming right back at them, breaking through the black and gold lines seemingly easily, team scattering back on defence, trying to contain the Cane’s speed, trying to break up the attacks, get some momentum going in the other direction. 

“Simplify,” comes the instruction from behind the bench. Make the short pass if you can’t make the long one, concentrate on possession not making the perfect play. And they do try and slowly, they start to edge back into it, shots on goal starting to come, including a couple from Justin himself; one blocked by a d-man, one blockered away harmlessly by Lack. They just can’t break through, the Canes all over them. He can feel the frustration building on the bench that they’re stuttering like this, unable to get anything going. Sully is projecting calm and confidence still, but the players are starting to get jittery, frustration starting to show in the tightness of a hand on a stick or the mistimed snap of a wrist on a shot. 

Sid’s line gets called for a face-off and Sid goes over the boards, face set and determined. 

“Whoooooahhh boys look out!” mutters Colesy looking at him. But despite Colesy’s words, it’s up and down the ice even for Sid’s line; a shot from Sid becomes a breakout opportunity by the Canes and a missed shot on Murs, before the Pens gather the puck back in, Sid steaming up the boards, puck on his stick.

It’s not until he bounces past the Canes’ defender, Slavin, on the boards that the team start really paying attention. As he sharks into the offensive end, head up looking for options, the team is shouting encouragement. And as he skates across the crease, beating the other d-man, before backhanding the puck neatly around Lack’s outstretched leg, they’re cheering him, on their feet, sticks banging off the boards. 

The whole arena is cheering. 

“I know he’s Sidney Crosby,” Justin says. “But I think that’s the most Sidney Crosby thing I’ve seen in my life.” Beside him, Olli’s grin is wide and infectious and Colesy laughs. 

“I think you’ve got little love-hearts glowing in your eyes!” Colesy’s still laughing as he says it. 

“Fuck off!” retorts Justin. But really that play was just ridiculous. 

It’s like all the tension has been released from the team. With Sid like that, he’s unstoppable so they’re unstoppable. And with that belief the team run riot, playing hard and fast and confident. Phil ties it up for them, with an assist from Colesy that has him loud and vocal on his way back to the bench - and then he’s even louder when he sets up Sid for a filthy goal, from his knee, angling his stick across his body to redirect the pass into the empty space behind Lack. With that they’re ahead and swarming the Canes. Colesy is irrepressible, riding the high of a multi-point game, screw up behind the net forgotten. The team seems irrepressible too, to have got off to such a bad start and then turn it around like this. 

When the buzzer sounds to signal the end of the match, there’s almost a feeling of regret from the team that they’re going to have to leave the zone they’d found, that it’s over. But it’s outweighed by the satisfaction and pride in their win seeing the Canes skating off looking shell-shocked, their chances of a play-off place all but gone. 

In the locker room, Justin feels almost giddy; he’s played six games and won five of them. He’s not certain he’s ever had such a successful spell in the NHL. He says as much to Olli, slumped beside him in his stall, seemingly boneless and like he’s just been… and Justin stops looking at Olli, can’t look at him when he’s postured like that, not all sweaty and rumpled post game and all too suggestive. He methodically starts picking tape off his socks to try to distract himself. 

“Feels good doesn’t it?” He can hear the grin in Olli’s voice and none of that helps but fortunately Olli sits up as Sully comes into the locker room. 

Sully keeps it short; the team knows it wasn’t a perfect game, but there’s no point bringing them back down to earth yet so he lets them enjoys the win, commends them on the come back and reminds them it’s an optional skate before they depart from Cranberry for Philadelphia. The mere mention of their rival’s city darkens the mood a little, until Phil looks at them. 

“I know why they cause you problems,” he says. “Why on earth do they have so many gingers on a team when they wear orange? Eh, it makes your eyes bleed, man. No wonder they’ve been a problem for so long, you have to keep playing a team which is designed to cause you optical distress.” 

That does lighten the mood a lot. 

0--0--0

The next day, on the train to Philly, Justin is somewhat surprised to have Flower slide into the empty seat next to him shortly after boarding. He’d just assumed it was flight rules, and Flower would take his normal seat by Sid. Glancing back at Sid, Sid’s surprised too. 

“Oh it’s fine,” says Flower aerily. “I’ll join him later, but I haven’t had much of a chance to talk to you since you joined the team and I just wanted to check in with you that you were settling in ok? It can be a big change, mid-season deals.” 

Justin is a bit surprised at this. What is it about this team and guys checking up on him? He supposes it’s something to do with the Pens and the fact they’ve made a lot of deadline trades so they understand how unsettling it can be for the players coming in.

“You guys have been great,” he says. “I’ve felt very welcomed here, like you’ve gone above and beyond to make me feel part of the team and settle me in quickly.”

Flower nods, smiling at Justin and looking pleased. “That’s good to hear. It does feel like you’re part of the team already, like you’re settling in well. It must be difficult though, to have no shared history with your new team, to have to learn the injokes and not have shared points of references.”

“For sure,” Justin agrees. “But then you learn those, or you make new ones, like the suit for example.”

Flower doesn’t bat an eyelid. “Yeah, that was pretty funny, wasn’t it?” he replies, as though he were a bystander in the affair. “But you know, you can share some of the things from your old team as well if you wanted. It might help the settling in process.”

Suddenly, Justin can see where this is going. He waits to see how Flower will approach it. 

“So, if you want to share with me what happened in Prague, I’m perfectly willing to help you out and listen. You know build that shared team history, weaving you in with Geno and Sid and me.” Flower takes the pretty direct approach. “I think it would help to break down barriers in the team as well, it’s not good for a team in our situation to keep secrets from each other.”

Justin takes a deep breath, shakes his head. “Flower!’

“It’s not! We’re a team, meant to be built on trust, and secrets shouldn’t be kept. What if Deadspin gets this? Team is blindsided by it, it could wreck our momentum.” 

“How would you knowing about it help stop that?”

“Well obviously it wouldn’t, but I’d be in a stronger position to help the team carry on, knowing what had happened. I would help calm the team’s fears. It’s stupid to take the risk of leaving me in the dark with this hanging over us, like a sword of Damocles.”

“A sword of what?” says Justin, confused. 

“You spent too much time playing hockey as a child, my friend. It’s a big pointed thing that hangs above your head, ready to crash down and kill you at any moment. That’s what the Prague incident is.”

“Okay,” says Justin. He’s kind of glad Olli gave him a way out, he’s pretty sure that if he did know what had happened, he would be coughing it up by now. “If you must know, the Canadian team broke into the Prague zoo, and when they were caught Sid had draped a camel in the Mapleleaf and was trying to ride it, saying it was his victory steed.”

He watches Flower’s face. He might as well get some enjoyment out of this. 

Flower’s face goes from excited to amused. But then his brows crease together and he looks suspicious. 

“Was it a one-hump or a two-hump camel?” he asks. 

“What?” says Justin. It’s his turn to be confused. 

“Was it a one hump camel or a two hump camel? I thought that information would have been passed on.”

“I don’t know - all I was told was a camel?” replies Justin. 

“Hmmm.” Flower is looking suspicious now. “So you want me to believe that a group of drunken, win-happy hockey players were able to break into a zoo and decided of all the things they could do there, camel riding was it? There’s something not quite right about this. Would they even have gone someplace with no more alcohol available?”

“I don’t know,” replies Justin. “I just know what I was told and that’s what I just told you.”

“No,” Flower says. “I just don’t believe it.” He suddenly stares hard at Justin and Justin tries to keep his face showing nothing because this is Flower and he has weird goalie powers. “Oh my god,” he says after the scrutiny. “You’re making this up! Why would you do that to me?”

“I’m not making this up,” counters Justin. “This is what Ebs told me,” but he can hear the weakness in his voice and knows Flower will have heard it too. 

“No,” says Flower confidently. “I don’t think so. And you know it too. Why would you lie to me? It destroys trust in the team, you know, when you do stuff like this.” He looks at Justin disapprovingly, who feels like he is starting to wilt before Flower’s disappointment. Maybe he shouldn’t have listened to Olli. But Sid had approved it as well, and he wouldn’t have done that if he thought it would mess with the team. That thought causes him to look at Flower a little more closely. Is Flower still trying to play him?

Just as he’s trying to decide if Flower’s injured face is genuine or not, Sid cuts across their conversation. 

“Hey Flower, are you ever joining us for CoD?” There’s a tone of impatience to Sid’s voice that Justin isn’t used to. 

“Yeah, coming,” and he waves at Sid before turning back to Justin. “I hope you think about this and take the correct course of action,” he says as he stands up, gathering up his belongings to move up the carriage. As soon as he’s not looking, Sid winks at Justin. It seems Sid had recognised perfectly well why Flower button-holed Justin. 

“Looked like you were getting the third degree from Flower there,” Olli says, sliding into the now empty seat. 

Justin nods. “He seemed so hurt that I’d told him something that wasn’t true.”

Olli sighs. “And you're worried that you’re messing with team now aren’t you?”

Justin nods again. “He seemed so disappointed.”

“Don’t fall for it. We love him, but Flower is a manipulative asshole who knows how to push our buttons. He’s trying to make you feel bad so you’ll do what he wants. Which, incidentally is share a story about Sid that Sid doesn’t want Flower to know.”

Justin thinks if he nods anymore his head might well fall off. But listening to Olli, he does realise how good Flower was at talking him into doing what he didn’t want to do. Olli’s right, Flower is very good at manipulation. Justin’s kind of relieved he doesn’t know the story - there’s no danger of him being persuaded. 

“Anyway,” says Olli, “You haven’t told me what you told him and how he reacted.” And he settles back in his seat, waiting expectantly. 

Well, what else is Justin to do but oblige?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well.. look for a double posting this week as a wee holiday gift! Thanks for your continued support of this story; your comments, kudos, subscriptions and enjoyment of Justin Schultz is great is very motivating! 
> 
> There would have been less hockey in this chapter.. but a bunch of you told me you enjoyed the in-game stuff, so you encouraged me to write a wee bit more. And Sid's first goal in this was luscious. If you aren't sure what one I'm talking about it's the first one here: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Wm4fZzEHYSk 
> 
> So many articles being written about Justin at the moment. His play has been so good! And 7-2 on the Rangers.. let's hope they can do the same to CBJ tonight.


	17. Cuddly teddies and hip-checking goalies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Justin's first Penguins-Flyers game. He's not sure what to expect, given what he's heard about the rivalry, but he's pretty sure he wouldn't have predicted this...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And here we are! As a wee holiday treat, a second chapter. Who knew Penguins-Flyers games are quite so fluffy?

It’s probably a mark of how Flyers-Penguins games are, that Justin seems to be one of the few on the Penguins bench surprised to see Flower deliver a hip check to Brayden Schenn in the opening minutes of the game. 

“Nice hip check!” exclaims Tanger proudly. There’s a chorus of grunts of agreement from those around him. 

“But he’s a goalie!” Justin is much more quiet than Tanger was. 

“He’s our goalie,” Colesy says proudly. “And if he has to hip check that orange douchebag to show them we’re the Pens and we aren’t taking their shit, then he’ll do it. And if they try to retaliate… “

“Right,” agrees Tanger. 

“Play to the whistles, boys!” comes from behind them, causing Colesy to start guiltily. “Emotions are good, but channel them properly. Let’s not get dragged into the way the Flyers play and play our own game instead!”

Justin grins as Colesy sinks a little lower on the bench, apparently entirely engrossed in the game in front of them, waiting for their call. 

“Right coach!” acknowledges Tanger, with a meaningful glance along the bench.

0--0--0

During the first period the Pens are starting to dominate, but unable to get a goal in the net; however, the Flyers are struggling to even get the puck to the Pens net. 

Towards the end of the first, Olli and Tanger come back to the bench laughing as Dumo and Dales head onto the ice for a defensive zone face-off. 

“What’s up?” asks Justin. 

“Flower’s being even more of an asshole than usual,” replies Olli. “He’s now congratulating the Flyers for remembering where the goal is when they get the puck anywhere near his net and complaining loudly about being bored and asking us to bring him a book to read.” 

Justin winces. “Hope that doesn’t backfire on us. Just what we need, him winding the Flyers up.”

“They don’t need much winding,” replies Tanger. “They’ll do it by themselves, playing us, so we might as well accept it and contribute. Besides, four shots on goal this period? That deserves some mockery.”

“Schultzy’s got a point,” chimes in Sid unexpectedly. “It is shit like that which means these games do get out of hand.” 

Tanger just looks at him, a world of meaning in his gaze, Sid slowly blushing. “Yeah, I know,” he replies to Tanger’s look. “But I’m trying to do better.”

They’re interrupted by Shears skating past, trailing Giroux. Giroux’s face is tight and pained and he glares at Tanger as he goes by. 

“Ee-sty de calf!” Shears is shouting at Giroux as they pass the bench. Tanger winces, his face bizarrely taking on the same constipated expression as Giroux’s. 

“What did he say to Giroux?” asks Justin curiously. 

“Tanger, have you been teaching the mongooses to swear in French?” Sid asks almost simultaneously. 

“It’s not me! I wouldn’t teach anyone to mangle my language like that! Calisse, it was appalling,” replies Tanger hotly. “Colesy! Was that you?”

“Yes,” says Colesy proudly. “Shears wanted to know what I was calling Giroux the last time we played them that got him so mad.” 

“I can see why it gets him so mad. It’s awful!” Tanger says with feeling. “If you are trying to say what I think you are trying to say it’s pronounced ‘eh-stay day cav’”. 

“‘Eh-stay day cav’,” repeats Colesy dutifully. “‘Eh-stay day cav’.” He nods. 

“What does it mean?” repeats Justin.

“There’s not a direct translation,” Tanger replies. “Kind of like ‘fucking idiot’.” He acknowledges Sully’s call of his number, gets ready to go over the boards. “Don’t worry, I’ll keep telling him!” And with a wicked grin, he’s pushing off the boards as Dumo tiredly enters the bench and the D all shuffle up to fit him and Dales in. 

0--0--0

The second starts with icing after icing. By the third - or probably fourth - Sully is shouting. The fourth was a bit of a bullshit call as the Flyers had obviously played for it, skating up the ice with all the speed of a geriatric turtle, but by then the Pens had had no speed in their own legs to challenge the call, just to endure and try to clear the puck to complete the change. And then with a group which was half made up of guys out there for too long and half new onto the ice, Gudas gets a blast from the blue line through traffic. 

His mocking “We know exactly where the net is boys!” is heard across the Pens bench as he skates by them after fistbumps from his own team. 

“Except you were aiming for the corner and miss-hit it! That’s the only way you can score!” shouts Colesy back. “Asshole,” he mutters as he leaves the bench with Justin for the centre face-off. 

Justin has just settled back onto the bench after his shift when Fehrsie is tripped in the corner. The referee’s hand goes straight up and Flower is charging across the ice to get the extra man on when Dales pinches in, seeing that the Flyers have all been drawn into the corner, unregarded except for Bones who gets the puck out and over to him, for him to tuck it behind the Flyers goalie. It happens so fast the other Pens on the ice don’t realise it’s a goal until they look at the referee and see Dales’ hands, high in the air in triumph. 

“Now, let’s not let them back in it,” says Sully on the bench. 

It seems at first as though the Pens have ignored his words, as Sunny takes a penalty battling with Giroux down centre ice. But the PKers go to work, smothering the vaunted Flyers power play, shutting it down and even getting a couple of short-handed opportunities. From then on, although the Flyers have a few chances, the ice is tilted towards the Pens; they’re still outshooting the Flyers by a large margin, and having good chance after good chance, Sid’s line and Bone’s line both hot and Flyers struggling to contain them. Justin gets his chances too, pinching in and firing on the net behind Bone’s line, but somehow the Flyers scramble the puck clear again. 

Flower skates over to the bench on a time out. 

“Flower!” greets Tommy. “What else can we call Giroux? It gets boring saying the same thing over and over again and he’s getting used to it now. Tanger won’t tell us anything else.” 

Tanger growls. “No wonder! It’s awful.” 

Flower grins, in a way which has Tanger shut his eyes and shake his head in denial. 

“Try ‘Tu es un câlin toutou à tête rouge’,” he replies. The mongooses stare at him suspiciously. 

“Tommy, is that right?” asks Rusty. 

Tommy laughs. “You know German is different from French? I have no idea.”

“But you’re European babes!” 

“That’s like expecting me to understand what Olli or Hags are saying when they’re speaking Finnish or Swedish because they’re European too.”

“You don’t?” Rusty sounds positively aghast. “But you’re all so good at languages over there.”

“I speak German and English and that’s enough for me. Flower, say it again please?”

“ ‘Tu es un câlin toutou à tête rouge’ “ say Flower slowly, speaking carefully, only to be followed by a chorused repetition from the mongooses with varying degrees of proficiency. The rest of the bench is varying between laughing outright and trying not to laugh. The tv timeout is drawing to a close so Flower skates back to his goal, looking highly satisfied. 

Justin looks to Tanger. “You are a cuddly something with a red head? What’s a toutou?” he asks quietly so the mongooses can’t hear over the sound of their practicing. 

Tanger grins. “It’s what you’d call a teddy bear.” 

“The mongooses are going to skate around shouting at Giroux that he’s a cuddly red-haired teddy bear in really bad French?” 

There’s a silence from the D as they take that in, picturing Giroux being accosted by a bunch of mongooses who apparently think he’s cuddly. 

“That’s awesome,” says Colesy reverentially. “He’ll really go bat-shit mental. I’m going to have to have a piece of that. Say it again Tanger?”

Tanger just grins before skating out to centre ice for the face-off. 

They don’t get a chance to see how Giroux reacts before Justin is out on the next shift, battling hard in the Flyers end, when Bones gets the puck off the boards to Hags who’s in the slot and doesn’t hesitate to bury it behind Mason. Justin just feels relieved; they’d been battling so hard, but hadn’t been able to get one into the net but now they’ve taken the lead again. 

Their lead is doubled shortly after when Horny makes a great play to break the puck free from the Flyers D at the blue line, before chipping it to Sid who is already flying the zone. Horny follows, going straight to the net, but he drops it back to Kuni, who slaps it towards the net, where it ends up going in off Mason’s foot. Two goals in less than two minutes for the Pens and just like that, they’re sitting a bit more comfortably. 

Even though the Flyers get a couple of good chances in the dying seconds of the period, they go into intermission with a healthy lead. It’s not done yet, but they’re smothering the Flyers. The crowd is silenced. It’s about the best they could hope for in Philly. 

0--0--0

Early in the third, Justin gets to see close up how Giroux is reacting to the mongooses’ new phrase as they glide into a defensive zone face-off, Rust mutters it in Giroux’s direction. Justin sees Giroux’s confused face until he figures out what Rusty was trying to say; and then he’s glaring at Rusty like the force of his glare will cause Rusty to combust. Giroux is obviously not appreciating the sentiment. Justin glances back and sure enough, Flower is smirking behind him. 

Despite that, the Flyers win the face-off, but Rusty goes charging through and picks up the puck on a breakaway after a mishandle by the Flyers D trying to keep it in. He’s streaking up the ice, Justin desperately trying to come around to get up in support, but Rusty’s shooting before you can blink - Justin swears he can see steam in his skate tracks. Mason safely gathers it to Rusty’s chagrin. 

The mongooses stick with it however - both the game and calling Giroux a cuddly, red-headed teddy bear at every opportunity and the Pens keep the Flyers contained until the Flyers pull Mason in the dying minutes of the game. Horny almost immediately breaks the puck up ice to Sid who passes to Kuni, skating up ice. The puck bobbles, and for a moment it looks like he’s going to lose control, but he makes the pass to Tanger who knocks it into the net. It’s the dagger they were looking for and the tension on the bench releases.

Then they realise the zebras are in a huddle and play isn’t restarting. 

“What the fuck was wrong with that?” 

Justin doesn’t hear who asked the question but he gets the sentiment. They’re watching the repeat on the overhead and it all looks above board. 

“They think I kicked it in?” Tanger’s voice is loud and indignant and he’s grinning in a way which Justin now knows means he’s angry, not amused. 

The zebras are now watching the playback on video review, while the players mill around the benches. Then, after what seems like an age, one comes out to centre ice. 

“No way is that goal being disallowed,” says Dales confidently. 

“After review the call is no goal!” announces the ref. There’s an immediate hubbub of noise around the arena, Flyers fans cheering and the Pens bench erupting in disbelief. 

“This fucking sucks!” says Tanger glaring at the ref with such intensity Justin is sure his glare could melt the ice. 

The refs get back into a huddle as they wait while the call is also now reviewed by Toronto. It’s a weird feeling; there’s so little time left that Justin just wants to get on and finish it now, but they seem to be making this call much harder than it looks on any replay Justin has seen. Eventually the ref puts down the headset and skates to centre ice again to relay the decision of Toronto. 

“After review there was a distinct kicking motion; no goal,” announces the ref. There’s another bubble of noise around the arena, but the ref is being called back to the booth and the headset. 

“What the fucking fuck?!” Tanger looks like he is about to explode. Sully has gone from looking calm to looking furious and he’s trying to attract a zebra’s attention to ask what is going on, but none of them are looking at him. Looking at his face, Justin’s not sure he can blame them. He wouldn’t want to have to try to explain this mess to Sully. 

The ref who had been back on the headset is skating back out onto centre ice again. 

“After review, NO distinct kicking motion; good goal, good goal!”

The noise in the arena redoubles; Tanger is looking mollified and it’s now the Flyers bench which is looking furious, the ref skating over straight away to speak to their coach. The other ref heads for Sully. 

“Sorry - simple comms error with Toronto,” he explains apologetically. “We misheard them over the link. We thought they said no goal when they said it was a good goal. Sorry about that.” 

“And that’s it - that won’t be overturned again?” confirms Sully, apparently having lost trust in the process. 

“That’s it. Final decision, good goal. You’re 4-1 up.”

The players are too busy celebrating to pay much attention. There’s no way the Flyers can come back from this and Mason returns to the net to play out the last seconds in acknowledgement. Justin and Colesy play most of them, Sully choosing to keep his top lines on the bench as the clock runs down but the Flyers are defeated before the puck even drops so it’s a simple matter of containment; Justin does try a cheeky shot on goal only to see it sail wide of the net. 

The end of game horn sounds. They’ve won another one and it’s against their arch rivals and taken two precious divisional points. And they’ve beaten the Flyers in Philadelphia emphatically. 

0--0--0

The locker room is light and buoyant afterwards, but as much as they want to enjoy it, they’ve got to get back to Pittsburgh for an evening game the next day against the Capitals. The team just wants to get home to rest up to take on the ‘best team in the league’ - Justin can almost hear the quote marks around it whenever anyone uses the name the media has been calling the Caps. So changing is quick and efficient and they’re heading back to Pittsburgh in remarkably little time. 

The team is quiet, trying to get some rest in the expectation of a later than usual return to PIttsburgh the night before a game. Justin is content to stare out into the darkness, letting his mind drift, Olli dozing in the seat beside him. It wasn’t even anything he did that caused Olli to end up there; he’d sat down after Justin had, taking the seat as though he naturally belonged there. Justin’s not going to object, but he’s also worried that it’s only going to encourage his crush and he needs to get that under control so it won’t affect the team. But for now, he’s not going to think about that. He’ll take the intimacy of Olli dozing next to him, in the quiet and darkness of the cabin and use it to lull him to sleep too.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Firstly. Yes, Flower really did hip check Brayden Schenn. I hadn't noticed it at the time, but when I re-watched the game to write this he does it early on, as Schenn is trying to skate past him behind the net. It's fantastic! 
> 
> Secondly the French. Apologies if I got any of it wrong, I speak it badly and then had to marry what I know in with some Quebecois. I think I provided translations within the text so shouldn't need to do anything here. There's also a subtle insult within what Flower teaches the mongooses - French has two forms of 'you' - tu - which is intimate/informal and/or used from superior to inferior and vous which is formal and polite and used when you don't know someone terribly well. Of course Flower teaches the mongooses the less polite form to use, when normally you'd use vous in that situation. I mean really, he's trolling everyone; the mongooses think they're swearing at Giroux but Flower's just loving them calling Giroux a cuddly teddy bear, which on the face of it, isn't that bad an insult but also not really what a rough tough hockey player facing his deadly rival team wants to keep hearing in bad French. That look where Flower has eaten the cream, got the bird, chased off the dog from the neighbourhood? He's wearing it for most of this game...  
> Third - the no goal thing at the end. Yes, that really did happen. Was a bizarre few minutes. Tanger looked like he was about to punch someone when they took his goal away from him for the second time and apparently it was just the guys on the ice had misheard what they said in Toronto.


	18. 'Best team in the league'

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> After victory over one rival, the Penguins now have to meet another league rival with little time to recover from the first game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oops! Had lost track of time.... nearly forgot it was Friday. Have a long chapter...

There’s a certain tension in the team when Justin arrives at Consol before the game. There always is before any game, but Justin feels it more today. He knows there’s a rivalry between the Pens and the Caps but he hadn’t thought the team would be this keyed up for it. Coming straight off a victory over the Flyers doesn’t seem to have helped any; they had got back fairly late and to go back into another game against a key rival is tough. 

Bones is looking morose as Justin sits down next to him in the lounge, plate piled high with pre-game food. 

“Did you know Caps can secure divisional championship if they beat us tonight?” he says by way of welcome. Justin blinks at that; he hadn’t. 

“Well, I’m sure that won’t affect their effort tonight,” Justin answers dryly. Just what they need, a super-hyped opponent. 

“Think how good it will feel when we stop them though,” says Cully cheerfully. “Gives us a stronger incentive too. It’s not like we want to see them celebrating that in our barn.”

Geno joins them, arm in a sling, plate piled with food also. 

“Where’s Sid?” asks Dumo. 

“Making sandwiches,” replies Geno. “He choosing between fuss over me or break game day routine. First peace I get when he not on road trip!” He grins broadly. 

“Because if he was here, he’d have stopped you eating so much,” says Horny cynically. 

“Is game day routine. Bad to break,” insists Geno. “Have be here to annoy Alex. Who insult him in Russian if I not here? It tough, but I do for the team.”

“You could teach the mongooses,” replies Justin. “That seemed to be working with Giroux.” There’s a laugh around the table at that. 

“Then I have to listen to them. That hurts.”

“Tell me about it,” mutters Tanger but he’s barely heard over the cries of protest from the mongooses. 

“Our French is excellent!” says Rusty. “Flower even praised my pronunciation.” Tanger’s eyebrows shoot up at that. 

“Really?” he says. 

“Yes,” replies Flower, sliding into a seat at the table. “Rusty’s command of French was excellent at causing maximum annoyance to Giroux.” 

Tanger looks hard at Flower, biting his lip. There are a lot of snorts around the table as the players try to hide their amusement. 

“Hang on… “ Rusty says slowly, obviously only just seeing the double edge of Flower’s statement. 

“Ignore them Rusty!” Flower commands imperiously. “You wanted something to help you chirp Giroux and you did it very well. Did you see how he reacted every time you or Shears or Tommy said it?”

Rusty nods reluctantly. 

“Well then, job done. And part of getting that job done was the fact you aren’t a native French speaker. He knew he couldn’t respond in kind as you wouldn’t understand it. And he hated what you were saying - he made that quite clear to me and Tanger.”

“Frequently and often,” growls Tanger, but he is grinning too. “His language was shocking. I almost think he could have given Flower lessons.” 

“I doubt that!” says Flower. “But see, it worked. So success. And we won so even better. Now we need to beat the Caps, or Geno will never hear the last of it from Ovechkin.”

“I not teach the mongooses Russian insults,” says Geno. “Will only end badly, for them, for me. Alex has good English, stick to chirping him in that.” 

“If you put as much effort into your play as you do your chirps… “ grumbles Sid, sitting down, his sandwiches in front of him.

“Sid!” says Geno shocked. “It team, we all work hard, give our all. But coaches, they tell us to go out, have fun. Chirps are fun, we only do what coaches tell us to, what they want!” There’s a round of ‘what he said’ noises from around the table. 

Sid rolls his eyes, but he’s grinning as he does so, taking a bite of his sandwich. 

“Did you just troll us? Really, what’s the world coming to when your team captain trolls his hard-working team about their work ethic” complains Flower. 

“I’m allowed to have some fun too,” says Sid mildly. 

Flower looks at him like he’s grown two heads. “You have enough fun on the ice. You can’t suddenly expect to have it off the ice too.”

Geno growls. “Sid’s allowed to have fun anywhere he likes. He get plenty of fun at home too!” He waggles his eyebrows, growl slipping away to a leer. 

There’s a groan from Horny. “What did I tell you? Rabbits! Geno… we’ve talked about this before - we have so not missed this!” He holds his hand up when he sees Geno’s mouth opening ready to respond. “Don’t! Don’t say another word, I know the next thing out of your mouth is an innuendo about what Sid has or hasn’t missed, and you are not saying it! Think of the children!” he says, looking towards the mongooses who immediately protest at Horny’s description. 

Geno grins at him, but holds his peace as directed. Sid is blushing again and concentrating on his sandwiches, refusing to meet anyone’s eye. 

With regret, Justin realises he’s finished his pre-game snack and he really needs to go change and get his game head on. 

0--0--0

The first five minutes of the game is a shit show; the Capitals are swarming them. Flower nearly gets mugged playing the puck behind the net and only a Herculean scramble by Dumo, Dales and Flower keeps the puck out of the net before they are able to clear it. But it doesn’t take Caps long to regain the zone, and this time it’s Olli tying up Kuznetsov’s stick to prevent the goal as Flower is out of position. 

Somehow they survive all of that without giving one up and then Justin takes the ice for his first shift, going into the maelstrom, and yes the game is as physical and fast as it looked from the bench. They get through it though, and the ice is starting to even up as the Pens settle and adapt to the Caps power and speed. They just keep playing, pushing back against the Caps, refusing to buckle. There’s no panic on the bench, just a determination to keep playing. 

But the Penguins attacks are starting to get more time and space, working in the offensive end and getting some good look at Holtby’s goal. But it’s still a game where either team could score at any time and are determined to do so. 

Justin is on ice, defending around the net when Cully passes to Tommy who flips it to Rusty who takes off, accelerating quickly, Tommy and Colesy charging up ice in support. As Rusty enters the neutral zone he passes to Colesy who pulls up on the blue line, passing it forward to Tommy who feeds it via a spinarama to Rusty, powering through Holtby’s crease to backhand it around Holtby’s outstretched foot. Justin, as last man up, watches the play laid out in front of him, sees the delight on Rusty’s face as the goal light goes on and the goal horn starts blaring, holds his stick up in delight as he skates over to congratulate Rusty. It was a lovely play, a beautiful tic-tac-toe goal and the Pens take the lead slightly against the run of play. 

Less than two minutes later and the goal horn is blaring again, this time it’s Dales backhanding it up into the corner past Holtby, after the puck squirted from the boards to be scooped up by Sid, who passed to Daley streaking into the zone. It’s a complete turnaround from the first five minutes, Penguins suddenly rampant. 

They keep the pressure on, but can’t get the puck into the net again. After an offside call, Justin and Colesy are sent out for the face-off. 

“Oh look it’s the Oilers’ reject!” he hears a voice saying behind him. “How bad do you have to be to not be good enough for the Oilers?” 

It’s not the first time someone has tried to chirp him over the Oilers; he skates to his position, only then glancing back to see Wilson smirking at him. He really should have realised; even in the west, everyone knows Wilson wants to be an agitator when he grows up. 

Play starts with the Caps winning the face-off and sending it straight back into the Pens end, Justin hustling backwards to receive the puck from Colesy behind the net, before he tries to get it out around the boards. It doesn’t go, and Richards tries a shot on net which Flower gloves easily. As Justin skates behind the net, Wilson follows him. 

“As I thought, pretty bad. A decent D-man would have cleared that,” he hears from close behind him, causing him to start. He hadn’t realised Wilson was so close behind him. Justin keeps on ignoring him, he’s looking for a reaction. 

Sunny goes to take the face-off, but the whistle is blown immediately after, as Fehrsie was stopped by Winnick who goes to the box. Pens are on a power play and Justin heads for the bench. 

“Bet you’re happy to be able to go hide on the bench now,” he hears from Wilson. 

Will this guy never shut up? Colesy glances at him questioningly as they skate away from Wilson, but Justin just shrugs slightly in response. 

Pens don’t manage to do anything more on the power play, Caps working to stop them getting set up in the zone. Justin gets called with the second unit, but although he gets the puck in behind the net, he’s overrun by penalty killers and they manage to steal the puck and clear it. As the power play clock runs down, he clears off the ice to let Olli and Tanger back out. 

They play out the remainder of the first and neither side is able to make an impression, despite the Pens getting a second power play. 

0--0--0

Into the second and disaster strikes early; somehow a poke check by Flower bounces off Chimera’s helmet and into the net. Suddenly the Pens nice cushion has evaporated and in a very bizarre way. There’s a long discussion with the zebras but it quickly becomes apparent that the goal will count. 

Justin and Colesy get called for a face-off behind Sid. They can’t get settled in the offensive zone and Colesy and Wilson are jousting. Colesy hits Wilson, who hits him back soon after, but the Pens get the puck up to Sid who carries it into the offensive zone, Justin following the forwards in as all the Caps are deep. To his horror however, the Caps manage to break it out with Justin still deep, leaving Colesy sole man back defending a 3 on 1. Justin’s steaming up the ice, trying to get back to help when Colesy drops to his knees, the puck deflecting harmlessly to be grabbed by Flower. 

Justin skates over to him as they head back to the bench. 

“Thanks bud,” he says, knowing Colesy bailed him and the team out big style there. Colesy nods in acknowledgement, grimacing slightly. “You ok?” asks Justin. 

“Puck came off my hip,” says Colesy, trying to breathe through it. Justin winces; there’s not a lot of padding or muscle there so to block a puck hurts. 

It doesn’t seem long before they’re back on the ice again. This time they seem pinned in the defensive end by the Caps, battling along the boards to get the puck free. Justin goes in to help Sunny and breaks the puck free, only to have Burakovsky steal it from him and fire a shot on goal. It all happens too fast to feel anything but relief as Flower bats it away, jammed against his left post, and the battle to clear the puck continues. 

While they’re pinned down, Caps manage to get their top line out and suddenly Justin finds himself battling with Ovechkin himself in the corner for the puck. Ovi manages to get the puck down the boards, but the Pens have been penalised; Colesy is shaking his head in disbelief as he skates to the box staring up at the screen to see what he has done. He’d tied up Beagle’s stick too well - he shouldn’t have tucked it under his elbow and refused to let go...Justin shakes his head, just not quite sneaky enough. 

The penalty killers head out and do a great job killing the penalty, spending a lot of time in the Caps end and even getting a great 2 on 1 chance which has the bench yelling before Holtby makes the save.

From there, things calm down a bit - at least from Justin’s perspective. His next shift is fairly uneventful and things seem fairly even on the ice, both sides getting opportunities but neither able to capitalise. It’s also getting more physical out there both during play, but also after the whistle, Caps seeking to intimidate the smaller Pens. Sully’s reminding them not to get drawn in as they watch the linesmen get between Williams and Horny behind the net, but Horny’s calm, slight smile on his face which means he knows he’s getting under their skin and he skates away easily. 

“My, they’re sensitive,” he grins as he gets back to the bench during the tv time out. “They don’t want me to touch Holtby, maybe he bruises easily? I thought Flower was the only drama queen on the ice!”

“Fuck you Horny,” comes the instant and not unexpected response from their goalie to that. “Besides, it’s character building for Holtby to have you bugging him all the time. He’s too worried about you messing his hair.”

Refs are signalling for the face-off so any rejoinder Horny might have wanted to make is lost as Flower returns to the net. 

Justin has just returned to the bench and is getting some gatorade when Colesy suddenly exclaims. 

“Rusty!” and pointing towards Holtby’s goal. Justin looks up in time to see Rusty surging to his feet to go after a Caps player - Weber - knocking the net away and Holtby scrambling to get out of their way. Rusty gets him to the ice but is pulled down again and the linesmen step in to separate them. 

And they’re standing up and banging sticks for him because seriously, Rusty and Weber is just ridiculous but Justin knows the mongooses won’t back down and Rusty’s just proven it again and he’s grinning ferociously as he skates to the box. He’s also put the Pens on the power play, Weber having been given an extra 2 minutes. Justin thinks it’s just down to the sheer stupid bravery of someone Rusty’s size trying to take on someone Weber’s size, but how can any of the team back down after that?

After some passing, the Pens manage to score with Sid digging it out from a net front scrum, but the goal is waved off immediately, a scuffle breaking out almost afterwards. They can see that Horny is - of course - in the centre of it all, but the linesmen break it apart and they head for a face-off. 

It was the calm before the storm; there’s another scramble around the net and the Caps are piling onto Horny again, Alzner going after him furiously. The Pens bench are on their feet and their shouts redouble as Oshie is seen punching Sid while he’s down on the ice, helmet knocked off. 

“Fucking animals!” Colesy is shouting at the Caps. The Pens bench is in an uproar, seeing their Captain being treated like that. 

Once the players are separated the Caps and Pens delegations join the referees to hear the damage. It’s clear Tanger doesn’t like what he’s hearing, Sid a bit more stoical. Ovechkin doesn’t even argue, simply skates back to the Capitals bench to rely the news to Trotz. 

Tanger skates back, sent by Sid. 

“Cancelling penalties,” he says shortly to Sully but loud enough the bench can hear. “They’re calling Horny for roughing and slashing; 2 for Alzner and Oshie. It’s bullshit but they’re adamant. We stay on 4 on 5 PP.” 

Justin glances over. Horny is grinning at the guys crammed in the Caps penalty box, chatting to Rusty calmly and apparently at ease. Justin has to shake his head; he just doesn’t get how Horny can be so passionate, but so calm in the face of the opposition. 

Sully keeps the top unit out, as they’ve had a nice break while this gets resolved, Kuni replacing Horny. The Caps manage to kill the penalty however, and then suddenly Burakovsky is jumping onto the ice behind the defence and is sprinting ahead of Tanger to wrist it into the top corner. 

Tied game. The bench feels a little grimmer. Sully sends the mongoose line out, and Justin, watching, realises that nothing gets them to them, they’re just as fiercely determined as ever and if anything, working even harder. 

The fierce determination pays off - Tommy forechecks the puck loose and gets it to Cully entering the zone. Holtby responds to Cully, who passes it back to Tommy who one-times it into the net from one knee, falling backwards and kicking his legs in celebration as the goal horn blares. It was a well worked goal, wily experience combining with youthful hard work and exuberance. 

The bench is cheering, happy and relieved to have taken the lead again and fist bump with Tommy as he zooms by, grinning broadly. They settle down again, for the last few minutes of the period, but even that is far from uneventful - Williams gets pulled for a penalty for high-sticking Hags, but neither the top unit nor Justin’s unit are able to convert it - only Shears is able to get a shot away. 

Still they go into the second intermission having reclaimed a narrow lead. Things could be worse Justin reflects.

0--0--0

The Capitals come out like they are determined to wrestle the game and the Pens into submission. 

The mood amongst the Pens though is likewise just as determined. Sully had been at great pains to stress continuing with their game plan, and not letting the Caps get to them; of playing smart, clever, fast hockey without distractions. The Pens have taken it to heart and are pushing back against the Caps on every shift, not letting them getting to the offensive end, breaking up their transitions, but disengaging at the whistle, skating away. 

And then Tanger collects the puck from the Caps in his own end, passes to Olli who makes a perfect long pass to Cully open in the centre and making for the offensive end. He skates in alone, behind the D on Holtby and snaps it high, where it bounces off Holtby’s shoulder. The Pens bench are on their feet as they see Cully’s stick snap out again as he goes past the goal, trying to bat it in and then they see the puck dropping to the ground in the goal and the goal light goes on and Cully is celebrating and the crowd is celebrating and the Pens are celebrating. Justin watches back the replay, to see what actually happened and it dribbles over Holtby’s shoulder and down his back to drop limply into the goal. But it still counts. 

“Wily beaut!” Bones shouts at Cully, his eyes twinkling with merriment. 

“With age comes skill!” response Cully, grinning back as he settles on the bench. 

“HOLT-BY HOLT-BY” comes from around the arena as the crowd mock the Caps goalie for that goal and all the others. It’s the sound to gladden any team’s heart - when they aren’t on the receiving end. 

It doesn’t slow the Pens any though, quite the opposite, Hags challenging hard only to get into a shoving battle on the boards with Weber who objected to him going near Holtby. 

“He definitely must bruise easily,” remarks Horny. “They’ve very protective of him! Wish they were as careful of me” as Justin goes over the boards for the next face-off. Horny’d had a fierce net front battle on his last shift and is moving a bit gingerly on the bench as a result of being cross-checked several times by Alzner. 

Sonny loses the face-off but they are able to keep it in and battle it around the boards by dint of sheer hard work, harrying and harassing and the Caps not able to get it clear, the Pens continually swarming them. Eventually Shears is able to dig the puck out from the boards and pass to Sonny and Justin is moving forward to some empty ice in front of him, calling for the puck. Sonny hears and passes and Justin shoots straight on Holtby, trying to put pace and bite on it… only to hear the PING as it bounces off the post behind Holtby. The rebound comes to him, but Holtby clears that one. The crowd is excited though, half of them had thought Justin had got the goal from their reaction and inside, Justin is swearing at coming so close but failing. 

“Great pass Sonny,” he says to the baby Pen as he goes back onto the bench. “Sorry I couldn’t finish it!” He gets a grin and a head-shake back from Sonny though as he settles back down. 

“Did you hear the crowd? They thought you’d got it bud!” exclaims Colesy. “I thought you’d got it. Holtby knew you’d beaten him. You’re going to get one soon playing like that!”

Justin doesn’t want one soon, he wants one now - if only to silence Wilson who has continued to chirp at him every time they are on ice together. 

But it’s Colesy who gets the shot off on their next shift from Justin’s feed, bouncing helplessly off Holtby before the Caps ice it, both Justin and Colesy skating back to make sure the Caps don’t beat them to the puck. 

They go back to the bench, top lines going out. Somehow, Sid’s line brings it again - they’ve been threatening all game, but Tanger flips the puck up and Sid chases it down, being shadowed by Holtby in the crease. He backhands it across the goal to Kuni who bounces it off the bar and in. The bench are on their feet - 5-2 up and as the fans cheer and celebrate, Holtby leaves the crease to head to the bench. 

They’ve chased Holtby. 

There are quick grins fired up and down the Pens bench and when Justin glances to Flower, he’s clearing his crease with such meticulous attention to the ice that Justin knows he’s using it to disguise his glee and settle himself back into the game. 

But the Pens also concentrate and settle down. It’s unlikely but the goalie change could spark a Caps revival. And the Pens also have a new target in the crease as well as they seek to extend their lead. They can see the visible signs of the Caps’ frustration; they’d come tonight to secure the divisional title, and put the upstart Pens in their place and instead their goalie is chased, they’re down 5-2 and the Pens have allowed them a only a handful of shots. 

Then Ovechkin is crashing into Dumo hard, taking out his frustration in the hit and Dumo is left lying on the ice and not getting up, Daley and Cully standing over him defensively, faces fierce, daring the Caps to approach. The team are on their feet and the trainer is heading out across the ice to assist. It’s at times like this it hurts to be a player, to be so helpless, just watching your team mate in pain on the ice and unable to do anything except watch. They get Dumo to his feet and he’s helped off the ice to the applause of the crowd, but his face is showing the pain. It somehow hurts worse that Dumo is so quietly efficient on the team; Justin doesn’t know him well because he is so quiet. He never complains, but he also never quits and he just goes out and does things very well, rising to whatever challenge is set him. He and Tanger had been trading off shutting down Ovechkin and with considerable success and now Ovechkin is rid of him. 

Justin can feel the anger coming from the rest of the team, but their coaches are on it, reminding them they are 5-2 up and they can win it so long as they keep their heads and keep playing. 

“We’re not giving up the game now,” says Tanger, fierce glint in his eye. ‘Don’t let those fucking assholes back in it now, because of this.” There’s a line of nods along the bench. 

The Caps keep hitting and the Pens keep getting faster, somehow shrugging the hits off and continuing to play their game of keeping the Caps at bay. 

It boils to a head when Weber catches Rusty against the boards, driving into him when his head is down and his back is to Weber, no chance to prepare for the hit which sends him head first into the boards. Weber is obviously taking the opportunity to get some revenge on the gadfly irritant that Rusty has been all game. Justin is on ice and he can see Rusty sprawling forward, unable to stop himself, knocked down and curling up on the ice, Weber off his feet with the force of the hit and Justin can’t see if Rusty is still moving so he’s charging over there, along with the rest of the Pens.

Tommy has reacted quickest and he’s piling onto Weber, furious with what he’s just seen, fear for Rusty galvanising him. Justin finds himself pulling Schmidt away from the scrum but Schmidt goes easily, not interested in getting too involved so Justin pulls him to one side and away from his downed team mate and stays back as the linesmen and refs wade in. Rusty bounces up apparently unharmed, mongoose-unbreakable and is arguing vehemently with Backstrom as the linesmen skate off Weber first, then Tommy, but he’s called to the bench anyway for checks. 

There’s a tightness on the bench while they wait to hear, a quietness that speaks of how bad it had looked and they’re only slightly reassured by the fact Rusty had bounced back to his own feet himself and immediately stuck himself straight into the heart of everything again. But all they can do is focus on what’s in front of them and despite the score, there’s still determination to show the Caps they can’t get away with that. 

The incident has left the Pens on a 4 v 4 for 2 mins and then a three minute power play. Schultz gets the call when the power play starts and finds himself on a jury-rigged unit, but they’re still giving the Caps trouble, Horny and Rusty, now cleared and back on the ice like it had never happened, working to get the puck back to the blue line for Dales. He fakes the shot but passes to Justin who one-times it. Justin watches it, almost in disbelief, as somehow it gets through the players in front of the net to blow past Grubauer’s shoulder, rattling into the corner of the net. For a second, time stops, all his being focussed on that puck. He almost can’t believe that he has actually scored, that he’s not dreaming, but the goal horn is on and blaring and Dales and Cully are skating over to crowd into him, joined by Rusty and Horny. Their contact wakes him up, past the babble of his mind going ‘GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL GOAL’ repeatedly, whiting out a little and he starts to remember what he has to do next. He knows he’s grinning from ear to ear as he skates down the bench and he’s still grinning when he gets onto the bench. 

It feels so fucking good to be scoring again, to be doing what the Pens asked, and even though in this game it doesn’t mean much, it means so much for him. When he shuts his eyes, he can see the puck hitting the back of the net and it’s a moment he wants to relive over and over again. 

Colesy gives him a quick hug as he comes back onto the bench. “Told you you’d get one soon!” he crows, grinning broadly. Justin grins back, shakes his head. Olli grins at him from across the ice where he’s out for the face-off and Justin can feel the D around him, happy for him. 

“Fucking yeah!” is all he can think to say, brain still trying to process anything other than delight at his goal. 

“Hey Schultzy!” shouts Horny from down the bench. He’s holding up a puck and at first Justin stares at it and then realises it’s his puck, the one he just hit into the back of Grubauer’s net, and he nods vigorously. He hadn’t even thought of it, but Horny was a step ahead of him. Of course he wants it, so Horny nods and tosses it to one of the equipment guys to look after for them. By the time the game is over, it will be marked up with tape and safely put into Justin’s locker for later. 

“Great response guys,” says Sully behind them. “Good goal Schultzy. Great response Rusty!”

The power play continues since it was a major, and Justin finds himself back out on the ice on the next shift change, this time alongside Tanger on the on-going power play. The power play gets a couple of close chances, but they aren’t able to get anything past Grubauer. 

Justin does, however take the opportunity, when skating for a face-off to come up behind Wilson. 

“If I’m such a bad d-man and I scored, how crap are you and the Capitals then?”

It’s so petty, but it’s satisfying. It’s the only time he’s responded to Wilson’s chirps all night and he’s skating off before Wilson has much of a chance to comeback, but all he can do is manage to curse at Justin, which just leaves Justin grinning smugly. 

In the last few minutes, it feels like the Caps have lost a little faith. They’re still trying, but the intensity isn’t there. Hags gets penalised and is indignant as he was also high-sticked, but the PKers are untroubled during the penalty. And from there the clock just runs down with the Pens pushing but more content to take the win; Sully rests the top players letting the bottom lines carry the team to the final buzzer. 

Justin skates over to Flower, grinning broadly, accepting yet more congratulations on his goal and helmet bashing Flower in congratulation. 

It just feels soooo good. 

0--0--0

The locker room feels amazing. Geno’s there to congratulate them, grinning broadly, before kissing Sid soundly. 

“Now I have something to say to Alex,” he says happily. “So much to crow over! He be mad!” 

Sid grins back. “That’s exactly why we beat them, simply so you could give Alex a hard time,” he says. “No other reason.” 

“I know,” Geno replies smugly. “You best team, so good to me! Best captain too! Even best goalie tonight!” 

Flower’s smugness is off the scale, delighted that Holtby got chased, accepting Geno’s praise with proudness, too content to react to the slight chirp. 

Tanger watches him, smiling fondly. 

“Don’t think we didn’t notice your sneaky attempt at a shot on goal late on,” he says grinning. 

Flower looks abashed for a second. “I was clearing the puck for you!” he says, but his protestation doesn’t ring quite true. 

“It wasn’t even an empty net!” says Kuni, also grinning broadly. “You’re getting desperate.”

“Goalies can make mistakes, and Grabauer wouldn’t have expected it,” replies Flower. “But it didn’t have the legs,” he says sadly. 

Justin can’t believe it. He hadn’t noticed Flower’s shot, but he also hadn’t realised that Flower was hankering to score a goal. 

“What if it had gone wrong?” asks Sid severely. 

“Then it would have been 6-3 not 6-2 and it would have been my stats which were hurt,” replies Flower. “It wasn’t a high risk situation Sid, the Caps knew they were beaten which was the perfect time for the attempt. Imagine if I’d scored! Ovie would have had apoplexy and you know it!”

A grin lights up Sid’s face for an instant; it’s clear he’s enjoying the thought of Ovechkin’s face in that situation, even if he does wipe the grin of his face quickly, trying to look serious. 

“Oh come on Sid,” says Flower impatiently. “It was harmless and you know it and it would have been priceless if it had worked.”

Geno unexpectedly agrees. “They not come back even if Flower had fucked up. But he didn’t. Sid, sometime it ok to dream.” And he winks knowingly at Sid, his eyes dark and full of memories and Justin isn’t even sure what he’s watching anymore, but he feels like he shouldn’t be, Sid and Geno suddenly unaware of anything else in the locker room except each other, Sid’s eyes hot and intense as they meet Geno’s gaze. 

He feels a nudge and starts with surprise, suddenly aware that he’s been watching the by-play and not changing. Olli’s laughing at him. 

“They’ll be at this for hours,” he says. “Sid disapproves of Flower trying to get a goal; it’s caused a couple of issues in the past.” 

“SCHULTZY!!!” 

Justin is suddenly aware his name is being shouted across the locker room and looks in that direction; Rusty is grinning and waving at him. 

“Finally! Are you coming out to celebrate your goal?” 

Well, if Rusty’s asking, it’s going to be inevitable isn’t it? He can only imagine the big mongoose eyes and the emotional blackmail Rusty will have over his boarding to persuade/force/bully/cajole the team to come out. He agrees quickly, knowing better than to even try to fight it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay - Justin's first Penguin goal! This was a great Penguins game, close until it wasn't, and the Caps did have the divisional championship on the line in this game. I think they got it in their next game. 
> 
> Flower did actually loft out a puck at the end of the game, and I wasn't sure if it was just to clear it, or if he was trying to get sneaky with a back-up in net. It's rare to see a goalie do that with a puck, so I decided there was intent to it. 
> 
> Sometimes penalties and player reactions amuse me. One I describe here, Cole is pretty blatant in tucking the opposing player's stick under his arm and refusing to let go, but is shocked.. shocked I tell you... when the ref blows a penalty for it. And he continues to display his aggrieved innocence all the way to the box. No wonder they say he's the best actor on the Pens ;) 
> 
> Happy New Year to you all when it comes, and may Justin keep on playing like he's playing (and Sid and the rest of the Penguins too) and can we have a healed defence and healthy set of forwards and two healthy and excellent goalies? I don't ask for much... 
> 
> Also.. my posting is catching up with my writing as we have a mammoth chapter coming up soon that I really don't want to split. That's not great, I'll see if I can pick up the pace a bit...


	19. An evening with Phil Kessel

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The guys who got traded in to the Penguins get together to have a whining session.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy New Year!

His head is pretty bad the next day; he’d really like to blame it all on Rusty, and Rusty was certainly complicit but it really was his own fault. It had been a fun evening though, the team buoyant and good natured after their victory. Well, Flower had got mad at him after Justin had told him that Sid and the rest of the Canadians had only just been stopped as they had been about to try to drive off a stolen train in Prague, but even that hadn’t lasted long, although he’d had to put up with Flower’s glares, which gradually morphed into mournful puppy dog eyes for the rest of the night as he tried to guilt-trip Justin. It had been worth it to see Olli laughing though at the thought of Sid trying to commandeer a train, Geno giggling like a schoolboy while muttering about no Canadian breaking so many rules to do something so dangerous and Sid’s own outraged expression before he’d reminded himself it wasn’t an accusation but a tale Justin had invented because it was so unbelievable. 

Fortunately it’s an optional skate the next morning and he’d cleared it with Sully that he wasn’t attending; he’s literally been to everything since he arrived and with the goal last night figured he had built enough credit to skip one optional skate. Even if it’s not entirely for the most pure circumstances, but their next game isn’t for four days. 

He still feels guilty though and worried about how it makes him look to the Pens coaches. But Sully hadn’t appeared disturbed by the thought that his Oiler’s reject wouldn’t be showing, had just grinned easily and nodded, eyes knowing. 

“Go out and enjoy yourself. You’ve worked hard and deserve it,” was all he’d said in response to Justin’s stammered request. “It’s what optional means after all. I’ll just expect you at the next one.” And he’d winked, turning back to Jacques Martin like it was no big deal, leaving Justin breathing out a long sigh of relief. 

Of course, that only means no optional skate, not no gym or no video, but it gains him some time to rehydrate before he heads over to Cranberry and hits the gym. It’s fairly lightly attended at the moment, but Olli already looks like he’s been in some time. Actually Olli always looks like he’s been there some time whenever Justin goes to the gym. He wonders how long Olli actually spends working out; he waves at him as he heads towards the weights. 

0--0--0

After video he’s snagged by Dales. 

“Hey Schultzy, you given any more thought to that dinner we talked about?”

For a moment Justin draws a blank and then he remembers the Islanders trip and Dales suggesting they go out with the other guys who got traded. 

He nods. “For sure man, good idea. When and where?”

Dales looks a bit pensive. “Well I know it’s a bit short notice, but I was wondering about tomorrow? Not another drinking session, and we can’t do Wednesday as you’ve got a pool game to play,” and he grins at that, grinning more as Justin interrupts him. 

“Wait, hold up, how did you hear about that?” Dales hadn’t even been out that night. 

“I was there when Tanger asked Rusty who had won last week,” and he’s still grinning. “Wild horses wouldn’t stop Tanger coming this week to make sure he’s still the undisputed Penguins pool champ.”

Justin groans, rubs at his face. “If I’d known it was going to be such a big deal, I wouldn’t have played!” he says. 

“Sure you would,” replies Dales confidently. “And you’ll take your opportunity to beat Tanger too because you’d love to beat him. Hockey player remember?” 

And all Justin can do is shrug and laugh in response, because yeah, he is and yeah, he would love to beat Kris Letang. At anything frankly. 

“Anyway,” Dales continues. “So we can’t get in the way of that epic, so tomorrow? I’ll check with Phil and Haggy; we might even get Phil to cook for us. I hear his hot dogs are amazing.” 

Justin’s jaw drops at that. “Really?” Because given the whole hot dog thing… 

Dales laughs. “No!” he says. “But he is a good cook, but he’s refused to cook them for us. Tells us they are best experienced from a certain Toronto hot dog stand he knows. At this point, we have no clue what’s fact and what’s fiction. Maybe he’ll tell us this time!” And he laughs softly. “So can you make it?”

“Yeah, sure, man.” Justin would have answered much earlier if Dales hadn’t kept distracting him with tales of Phil and hot dogs. 

“Excellent, let me check with Phil and get back to you - I’ll message you when I have an answer.” He nods and walks off, twirling his truck keys on his fingers and whistling as he goes. 

0--0--0

Justin actually finds himself nervous as he approaches Phil’s house; he’s not quite sure what to expect of the evening. He’d checked with Phil if he was needed to bring anything to which Phil had only replied “Canadians!!!” and then later, “no, all good!”. So he’d brought some wine anyway, not wanting to turn up empty handed. 

Phil greets him with a broad grin and a head shake when Justin held the wine bag out to him. 

“I’m going to have to invite you out again just to drink the wine you and Hags brought!” he mutters. “I’m more of a beer person!”

Justin feels a slight flush heat his cheeks. “I gave up turning up for things with a six-pack when I left college,” he says. “Even in Edmonton, we were civilised enough to know not to do that!”

“Good answer!” says Hags cheerfully, appearing as Phil walks him into his lounge. As always, Hags looks poised and confident and like he’s perfectly at home. “It’s not our fault you’re an uncivilised American!”

“Hmm,” is all Phil says. “Wine or beer to drink Schultzy?” 

“Beer please!” Justin replies unashamedly. You take wine as a gift, and drink beer. Everyone knows that. Phil bustles off to get it, leaving Justin to look around the lounge. It’s big and spacious and airy, with large windows looking out into what looks like woods beyond in the dusk.

“Phil’s been telling us of the deer he keeps seeing out his windows,” says Hags. “It’s like he’s never seen one before!”

“Well I’ve never watched them from my sofa before!” says Phil handing Justin his beer, just as the doorbell goes. “They’re cute! There was a baby one the other day.” He walks out again to go get the door. 

Hags laughs, shaking his head, turning to Justin. “How you doing, Schultzy? Glad you made it tonight - it was a good idea of Dales'. I mean, compared to you guys, I have nothing to complain about, and I want a bitch so god knows what you guys feel like. But it doesn’t feel like you can do that with the…” he pauses a moment obviously thinking, “the established Pens around. It sounds like we’re ungrateful or something, or haven’t moved on.” He shrugs. 

Dales joins them. “Phil’s putting my wine in the fridge,” he smiles. 

“Canadians!” comes a grumpy voice from the hall. 

“Hey, I’m a Swede!” shouts back Hags. 

“Fuck you!” comes from the doorway. Hags laughs delightedly as Dales sits down next to them. 

Phil come bustling back in another beer in his hand for Dales. “Dinner won’t be long,” he says. “I’ve just made a meatloaf, hope that’s ok for everyone.” He glances around the group. “And don’t mention fucking hot dogs!”

“Meatloaf sounds great!” says Justin enthusiastically to murmurs of agreement. Phil flicks him a grin as he settles down himself, picking up his beer from the table. 

“Well that’s a great place to start,” says Dales. “So come on Phil, what was the deal with you and Toronto and hot dogs?” 

Phil sighs, his face falling a bit. “It was tough. They wanted things I couldn’t be. They wanted me to be the go to guy for everything, and that’s not me. I want to play hockey, I love hockey. But I see the crap Sid goes through, and I’m happy just to play hockey. You know, take each game a day at a time, do my job out on the ice.” 

Justin finds himself nodding in sympathy. He can’t imagine being Sid, not just for his talent, but the crap he has to do and put up with.

“The Leafs organisation isn’t bad overall. It’s like any team; good points and bad points. And living in Toronto was pretty cool, but yeah, Canadians!” and he grins at Dales and Justin. “You’re just obsessed with hockey. Really obsessed. There’s no way to escape it. And the Leafs fans honestly seem to believe that in any given year, they have a chance at the Cup, and they’ve been believing that since they last won the Cup. Even in years when our roster was like a bunch of AHLers and fourth line guys, they still thought they had a chance. So of course, when they didn’t, they had to look for someone to blame.” His face turns bitter as he takes a drink. “And I’m not exactly your archetypal hockey player am I? I mean look at me.” He gestures up and down his body. “So that becomes the narrative.. If only I was ‘different’ then I’d be better and the Leafs would magically win the Cup.” He grimaces. “Of course, every year, the way in which I’d to be different changed a little, just to make sure I could never be what they wanted, so I could always be blamed.” He shakes his head, lapsing into silence. 

Hags leans over, rubbing him on the shoulder. “You’re what the Pens want though,” he says encouragingly. “You’re what we need.”

A ghost of a smile flits over Phil’s face. “Yeah, I hope so. It shouldn’t be so hard to play hockey, you know?” 

He turns back to the group. “So the Leafs decided eventually that they couldn’t keep failing at not improving, and are tearing it all down to build it up again. And it’s probably what they needed to do. But part of that was trading me. It was either that or declaring me medically unfit, and they could never get a doctor to sign off on that, and I wasn’t going to agree to give up playing hockey just so they could tank. I may not look like the archetypal hockey player, but it’s great whenever anyone says anything about my fitness to be able to say how many games I’ve played without missing one.” He grins, and it’s his game grin, his taunting grin, and Justin can imagine it quite easily being used to rebut a chirp. “So, so far as I can tell, they put out they were listening for offers, and well, you know the rest. Penguins decided that having two overpriced lazy players on the team wasn’t enough and went out and got a third.” They’re all laughing at that, it’s just such a ridiculous tag that they hear a lot. “Because what a team with perpetual cap troubles needs is to take on more cap… mind you, I never expected for Leafs to retain so much cap! Guess they really wanted me gone!” His face is twisted at the memory. 

“Or Jim Rutherford is a salesman,” says Dales, unexpectedly. “I would say don’t sell him short.”

Phil shrugs. “Could well be! But of course, once it’s known I’m out of Toronto, then it really is open season. I’d thought it was bad before, but nothing like that.”

“Simmons is a weasel of the first order,” says Hags decisively. 

“Not disagreeing!” says Phil nodding. “Seriously, that guy would write a dirt piece on his grandmother if he thought it would sell papers. It’s not even like I had any say. It’s a trade! We’re the last people who get a say yet somehow I was to blame for that too. I wasn’t good enough for them, but when I leave, I’m betraying them all by leaving.” His face is slightly flushed now and for all he’s been trying to keep his feelings contained, they’re leaking through, indignation and hurt warring on his face.

Dales nods sympathetically, Hags reaching out to grasp Phil’s shoulder again. Justin searches for something to say. 

“You did a good job handling it,” he finds himself saying. “You didn’t let them drag you down, you didn’t respond to it, you got out with your head held high.” Dales is nodding in agreement. 

“Schultzy’s right. It would have been all too easy to feed that frenzy and you didn’t. For all the nasty stuff that was said, you got a lot of respect for that too. And hey, only the idiots of this world would believe the shit that was said about you,” he says. 

Phil’s face lightens. “Yeah, the problem is there are a lot of idiots in the world,” and he grins slyly. “We should go rescue the meatloaf before it gets too dry.”

They decamp through to the kitchen/diner. The smell of the meatloaf cooking is amazing and Justin takes several large sniffs of it in appreciation. 

“I think Schultzy might just like meatloaf,” says Hags, eyes crinkling. 

“For sure, and it smells amazing,” replies Justin. “Hey, I’m living in a hotel with basic facilities. And I don’t even know how to make meatloaf. Ebs used to make it for me so I haven’t had a good one in ages.”

“Jordan Eberle makes good meatloaf? Must remember that next time I’m up against him,” laughs Dales. 

“Oh my god, don’t you fucking dare!” exclaims Justin. Ebs shouldn’t have to take shit for making Justin pity-meatloaf. 

“Actually fellas, that’s a point. Anything we say here is not to leave here. We shouldn’t use it in games,” and here Phil grins nastily, “well unless the person telling it wants us too!” 

There’s a round of nods and grunts in agreement and then they’re sitting down to eat. The meatloaf is as amazing as it smelled, and Justin finds himself groaning in appreciation. Hags laughs. 

“If you’re not careful Phil, you’re going to have Justin following you home from practice begging to be fed!” 

Justin grins at him; it’s something to think about, if it gets him food like this. 

“Dumo would be a better bet,” replies Phil. “He cooks fancy stuff. My cooking is a bit more basic.”

“Your cooking is amazing!” insists Justin. He’s not going to let someone who cooks as well as this criticise his own food. 

“You could do a schedule - Dumo one day, Phil the next!” suggests Hags. 

“He could probably turn puppy eyes on the wives as well. I bet some of them would take pity on him with those big brown eyes. Besides, Duper would never notice another one in amongst his brood.” Dales is laughing. 

“I’m not that bad!” protests Justin. “It’s just .. well… meatloaf!” and he gestures lamely at the half eaten plate in front of him to another roar of laughter from the table. He’s blushing big style now. He was just trying to be appreciative! 

“It’s ok, I made plenty, you can take some away with you,” Phil says once he’s finished laughing, pushing the dish on the table back over towards Justin. 

“Thanks man!” 

“So you were telling us about the trade?” Dales prompts. 

“Yeah.. where was I. Oh yeah, Toronto media. I mean, that hot dog thing is so ridiculous it’s gone over into parody now and is actually pretty funny. Although the chirps get boring on ice. But no-one ever said hockey players were original,” He grimaces slightly. “And then coming here and trying not to feed the hype. And the way the season started. You guys weren’t here, but it wasn’t good at the start of the season. Shit load of expectations and - and it sounds crazy to say this - a team which couldn’t score. Sid wasn’t scoring, I wasn’t scoring, only Geno and Flower were keeping the show on the road.” 

“But the team, there was a lot going on, but the dynamic was so different. The pressure came off me a lot - the way Sid stands out there front and centre night after night! The local media guys are pussy cats down here. Really, pussycats and puppies. But the pressure was mounting despite that. We were not good. And, well, you know what happened. Change happened and here you all are!” he toasts his beer to them. 

“Everyone has their own theories why we were bad at the start of the year,” says Justin, hesitantly. “What would you say happened?”

Phil looks at him, shrugs a little. “Hard to say - I think a number of different things. Part of it, Johnston didn’t actually trust the team, and that came through and how can you do well if your coach can’t trust you? So he put in these systems that were pretty rigid and then that doesn’t work so well… I mean, Sid tried, but was stifled, it was too regimented. And Geno and Tanger would get frustrated and do their own thing because well yeah, they’re Geno and Tanger and how we were being told to play was just not how they play so they'd keep breaking out. And Geno would go off, do his own thing, be ridiculous and win us games, but no-one else ever knew what they were doing. And then Johnston would try tell him how much better it would be if he played to Johnston’s system and Geno would just look at him and nod and agree and we knew he had no intention of doing it, because he’s winning us games by not doing it. Then Johnston would try to use Sid to put pressure on Geno and Tanger and it went downhill pretty fast from there. Sid was stressed and unhappy and Geno was angry at Johnston for doing that to Sid and Tanger was just angry all the time.” He pauses for a quick mouthful of beer. "There was a story about a fall out between Sid and Mario around then. There was. It was kept pretty quiet, even from the team, but we thought that Mario was unhappy with how Johnston was treating Sid, but Sid didn't want any favoritism. You know how he can get. He's the most humble best player in the world." He rolls his eyes a little, grinning. 

“So it was a mess and we lost faith in Johnston which meant it went to shit on the ice. And I mean by Penguin standards. You know, that was the thing. As bad as it got, we were still ok, still better than a ton of other teams, but the expectations here are higher. But it was getting worse, not getting better, and stuff was coming out publicly showing Johnston didn’t have Jim’s support either. We don't know if that was Mario's doing or not, but I guess a coach who loses his owner's respect probably isn't long for the game, particularly when he's not getting the results. Johnston was a nice enough guy, knew his stuff, but wasn’t a great people person, didn’t know how to run a team of elite players, treated us like we were college kids who knew nothing. And then, virtually at the same time, Johnston was gone and Sully was in and Scuds was gone and Dales was in. And Scuds was awesome in the room… but Dales can skate rings round him on the ice and is awesome in the room too. Good trade for us.” Dales laughs at that and demurs, but Justin can tell he’s pleased at the compliment. 

“And the rest came from there. Sully came in and hard-assed us from the start, you know how he is. Geno’s face the first morning when he told us to do press-ups! My face, when he told us to do press-ups!” He laughs, self-deprecatingly. “Shook us up, got us moving in the right direction, never looked back. Doesn’t stand for shit. And now we’re chasing hard for play-offs and the team’s feeling great. Some of the best hockey I’ve played!” and he relaxes back and smiles and there are nods of agreement. 

“Well I'm not too upset I missed all that early season stuff. It wasn't fun on the Ducks with the way our - sorry - their season started, but not like that! But how the fuck did you not retaliate for the press shit in Toronto?” asks Hags. “You’d done it before for other guys in the Leafs.”

Phil laughs. “It’s easier when it’s about you not to do that. It’s so fucking unfair what they say and how they take something you’ve said and twist it, or even just straight out make something up - like the hot dogs. You really want to go out and say it, but you know it’s only going to make things worse, so way better just to keep your head down and hope your hockey answers. And it is right now. Hey, I’ve done it both ways, and defending myself never really helped. For other guys, it’s easier though to step up for them as it’s seen as good team stuff and not quite so partisan.” He looks towards Justin. “Might as well ask Schultzy the same; if I remember, Simmons said stuff about you too? Didn’t he call you the worst hockey player in the NHL or some such utter bullshit?” 

Had he? Justin can’t remember that, but the trade had been a bit of a blur, and he’d long taken to trying to avoid what the media were saying. “I can’t remember,” he says uncertainly. “I’m not sure I heard that but that doesn’t mean he didn’t.” He thought he would have remembered if someone had said he was the worst player in the NHL - surely? He wouldn’t have accepted that - wouldn’t he? 

Hags smiles gently at him. “So much goes on when the trade news breaks. And really who wants to listen to what pisspots like Simmons are saying about you? It just shows how little he knows about hockey; I can think of at least ten players worse than you in the NHL!” 

And somehow, Justin can accept that as the joke it is, and not get upset by it. Hags’ face is so open with laughter and enjoyment, there’s no way it’s meant seriously and Olli’s words about the team and how they think of him are still cradling and warming him and he knows there’s nothing malicious about it so he laughs along with Hags. 

“As many as that?” he replies, grinning. “I didn’t know you rated me so highly!” 

The laughter around the room is tinged slightly with relief at his reaction. 

“Anyway,” says Phil. “That’s my bitching done. Dales, tell us about Chicago?”

The room quiets down, getting more serious again. Dales sighs. 

“I’d been at Dallas for so long, we didn’t realise how hard it was to move like that,” he said. “And Hawks are a good team, don’t get me wrong. But for all they change line-up easily, they don’t accept outsiders as easily. Particularly not ones who have seen other stuff in other places and can see that all the rah-rah about the Hawks way being the best way is just so much bullshit. I mean, they do a lot of good stuff, but there is an impression within the team that they walk on water. And they justify that with the three cups. Like, most teams, we have to say how great they are, regardless to the media. That’s part of being on the team and you do it. But there, you have to say how great everything is about the organisation to each other and believe it. It feels a bit like Stockholm Syndrome once you’re in, if you’ve been elsewhere. I remember suggesting something really simple, something that we’d done in Dallas, which would have worked really well in Chicago too, and I was looked at like I had two heads for even suggesting that someplace else could do anything better than how it was done in Chicago. If it’s not thought of there, then it’s shit.” He sounds bitter. 

“So there I was, struggling to fit in with a team where you almost have to be brainwashed to be accepted and then Coach Q, he’s a stickler. I mean we joke about Sully, and Sully is a stickler in his own way, but god, Q!” His face creases with frustration. “You know I’m a D-man who likes to play my off side. I’ve played that way most of my career, and I prefer it. I don’t care what anyone tells me, what they say about handedness in D-men, I just prefer doing it. And I’m better at it, as a result. But that’s not good enough for Q, he puts me on my natural side because that’s how I’m handed and in his eyes, I’ll play better that way. Because that’s how he sees it. And then when I don’t, when I’m struggling to come to terms with new systems and also doing it on the wrong side… then obviously the problem can’t be him, it must be me. So instead of switching me over to my offside, the way I prefer to play, that I’m better playing, instead I’m playing fewer and fewer minutes, which is Q’s way of showing he doesn’t trust you. I was probably only a few weeks from starting to be scratched and the rest of the team know you’re on the outside looking in.”

“It’s such bullshit but what do you do? You’re in a situation where your face doesn’t fit and you’re trying to make it fit, but yeah… it’s not looking good. So I let it be known I’d accept a trade out. Sometimes it’s better to just accept that it’s not working and move on even though you know as soon as you do that you’re a marked man. But at that point I kinda felt I had nothing to lose. Ironic; playing for years with Dallas and they finally build a team of contenders and I’m not on it; I’m shipped out to Hawks, who if nothing else, know how to win Cups, so you go in with hope there but I don’t fit there either and I come here and a lot of people have already written us off for the Cup when I arrive.” He takes a mouthful of beer. “Doesn’t feel like that from the inside!”

“It was a pretty unequal trade though,” Hags says thoughtfully. “I mean, yeah, Rob Scuderi has won two cups, but it shows. I don’t know how Jim Rutherford persuaded the Hawks. Glad he did though.” He smiles at Dales warmly. 

“Salary dump,” replies Dales. “And Q hoping reports of Scuderi’s demise had been greatly exaggerated and playing in his system would help him again. But the salary dump helped sweeten the deal a lot is what I heard, Hawks were so up against it. Those Kane and Toews contracts! They needed to be paid, but man. Sid’s a bargain compared to those.”

“You hear good things about the Hawks constantly,” Justin says. “I hadn’t realised it was quite so regimented over there.”

“For sure, I’m happy to have got out before I was assimilated,” Dales says. “Don’t get me wrong, they do a lot of things well, and they’re a good team but the personal price to be part of that is pretty high. I guess that’s why they like to sign guys who have played with them before; they’ve already bought in.” 

“If you end up buying in like that, then going anywhere else would look like being a step back,” says Phil. 

“Haven’t heard much about how the guys who went to Dallas fitted in; folks down there have been fairly quiet about it, although both of them have been around the block a fair bit. But I now wonder if I hear about players struggling there, if it’s the team, Q or the fact they won’t accept the Hawks brainwashing. Just glad to be out of it frankly. At least you guys don’t expect me to say how wonderful all things Penguins are. Well, Sid looks immensely hurt if you don’t think Pens are best at everything, but it’s not quite the same, although he does have good guilt-tripping puppy dog eyes,” and he laughs at that, and they all do, because yeah, Sid is a Penguin through and through. 

“But it is good here. I’m playing on my better side - that’s the first thing they did when I got down was actually listen to me about how I play best. And I’m contributing and we’re playing well and yeah, the move seems to have worked out. Moving the family twice in a year was tough, but Trevor loves going to school with Cully’s kids at the rink.”

“Oh they’re all great kids,” says Phil. “Cully’s have such high expectations for him though! Sully doesn’t need to ever worry about letting him know he’s fucked up, Cully’s kids are on it for him!”

“Oh yeah?” Justin asks interestedly. He’s seen the kids at the practice rink but since that first day hasn’t had much to do with them except getting a chorus of enthusiastic “Hey Uncle Justin!” whenever he passes them in the corridors. 

Phil laughs. “Oh yeah, never mind if he’s scored a goal or made a big PK. If he’s left something behind on the ice, they’re on it - he scored against Buffalo last month and all they could talk about was him missing on another scoring opportunity when he had a mostly empty net but couldn’t get the shot away. No credit for his goal in a 4-3 victory! Not sure I could take that pressure at home! I mean, they’re worse than the Toronto media.” He’s chuckling away to himself and Justin finds himself joining in, as much because Phil’s laughter is infectious, but he can also imagine those three kids doing exactly that. 

“Maybe that’s why Cully is as good as he is? Maybe it’s living up to that that’s kept his standards high?” asks Hags. 

“He’s ridiculous,” says Phil. “Nothing ever seems to throw him. Just stays calm, no matter what. Even when he gets angry on the ice, he’s lost it by the time he’s back on the bench.”

“He’s chirped way less than the rest of you,” Justin says. It’s something he’s observed, playing behind them. “Like even the little juvenile assholes don’t try that much. He just stares at them when they start and they kind of wither up and die. Cool to watch actually.”

Hags grins. “I’ll have to look out for it, I hadn’t noticed him do it then. I’ve seen him do the same look on the mongooses when they get a bit carried away. It’s been part of the house-training process!”

“Don’t knock it, he’s got them eating out of his hand, he’s done a fantastic job. Daddy Cully indeed,” says Dales. “They’re good, keen, hungry players and they’ve just absorbed Cully’s approach to hockey as well now. That’ll always stand them in good stead going forward. The man is an absolute pro. And they even realise how lucky they are to have had him to learn from.”

Phil is clearing plates, serving dessert which turns out to be apple pie. 

“Such a good American hockey player. Are your sheets made out of the US flag too?” says Hagelin mockingly, but it doesn’t stop him digging into it. Justin’s saying nothing, he’s just hoping there are leftovers of this too.

“That coming from a Swede. How many blue and gold t-shirts do you have?” replies Phil.

“Not as many as Horny! And we can’t help it if the national colours suit the Swedish colouring. Good design comes instinctively to us.” He just looks smug now. 

“So Hags, your turn. Tell us about Anaheim,” says Dales. 

“Mine is a lot simpler than yours. Whoever in the Ducks thought I’d fit their style of hockey was an idiot.” His tone is scornful. “They play a heavy, slow style. Signing me, I still don’t know what they were thinking. It’s like someone just looked at my playoff stats without actually thinking about how the Rangers had used me, how I play. I’d get up ice with the puck, look around for support, and the other forwards would just be exiting our defensive zone.”

There’s head-shaking and grins in response to that, they know how fast Hags is. 

“I’d signed for an extension, the money was great, but it wasn’t working. I couldn’t change my game to what they wanted me to be and still be seen as an NHL player and they couldn’t use me how I am. When I was told of the trade - well, rumors were reaching us even in the west of what the Pens were trying to become and I knew Sully from New York so I couldn’t get out of there fast enough. It was an old-fashioned win-win hockey trade actually. Things would have got bad with the Ducks if I’d stayed, but I got out before it all went too bad. Still a relief that it happened and I didn’t end up on the Yotes or someplace like that. At least the Ducks were contenders. But yeah, the Pens suit me much better in so many ways.” He grins, and it’s his game grin, fierce and hard. 

“How was Perron in the room?” asks Schultz. 

Phil looks at him knowingly. “Who’s been telling tales out of school? C’mon fellas, we’re done eating, let’s take this back to the sofas to talk about Perron. And then you Schultzy. Don’t think you’re getting out of it when the rest of us have spilled our guts!”

He organises coffees and they’re soon relaxing into Phil’s plush, squishy sofas. 

“So Perron. You asked so you know something and yeah, he wasn’t a good fit. You know how Sid and G are, particularly G. Well Perron disapproved. He tried to be a good team player and hide it - give that to him - he didn’t sit in the corner muttering ‘faggots’ under his breath - but he couldn’t get over it. So everytime G says something - and you know it’s often, he’s so proud of Sid - there’s this little cloud of disapproval from Perron. He’s French Canadian as well and Flower and Tanger tried to bring him around, but it was something he couldn’t get over. So then Sid becomes self-conscious about it, trying to make the locker room a good place and in Sid’s weird view of the world where he takes everything on him he sees it as him and G who are fucking it up, not Perron, and G gets angry because he rightly thinks it’s not him and Sid and the rest of the team who aren’t Perron are siding with G and then even angrier at Perron because he’s causing issues between Sid and G. According to Kuni and Flower, it took so long for them to get together and admit they were together that anything that jeopardises that will not be treated with much patience by the room. And throw in a dose of Mike Johnston, and Duper’s injury and yeah, the locker room wasn’t as good then as it was now. We kind of breathed a sigh of relief when he went.” Phil shrugs. “On another team, without the gay in the room” and his eyes are twinkling as he says this mockingly “he’d have been a good guy. But not in the Penguins. If anyone was locker room cancer, it was him. And he did try not to be. Shame really, but hey, we got Hags.” He looks over at Hags appraisingly, sprawled out as he is on the sofa alongside Phil. “Not sure that’s really a win on our part, but we’ll pretend it was to feed his ego.”

“Hey!” says Hags in response, launching a cushion at Phil in retaliation. “You’re just jealous of my sick flow!”

Phil catches the cushion and moves it out of Hags reach, refusing to give it back. They’re laughing at that, and then the room grows quiet and Justin takes a breath, realising he’s probably up next. And despite how open everyone else has been, he’s nervous. All of theirs seemed reasonable… his just seems like a fuck up. 

“So Schultzy, Edmonton?” asks Hags. The room quiets and stills, waiting for Justin to start.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry... I know it's a teeny cliffhanger, but this chapter would have been 8k long, so I really had to split it and this was about the only place I could. 
> 
> I said at the start that there were so many good stories around the Pens last year and I would use this to explore some of them. This is a fairly self indulgent chapter in which I do that. I've strung together bits and pieces from here and there into an explanation of why these guys were happy to come to the Penguins - nowhere have any of them said anything like this on the record. And of course, what went wrong under Mike Johnston is still a matter of conjecture, so have mine. Perron's reason for not fitting in is entirely made up too.


	20. An evening with Phil Kessel part deux

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's Justin's turn to talk about what happened to him with the Oilers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope this lives up to expectations! Be pretty annoying if I made you wait a week for it and then you were like 'is that it?'

He can’t back out now, not when everyone else has shared, so he squares his shoulders. He starts hesitantly, not really having thought about what he was going to say in advance. 

“If you’d asked that question three weeks ago, I’d have said it was all on me, what happened in Edmonton. That I was to blame, that I’d let my team down over there.” He shakes his head, avoids looking at them. “I’m starting to realise that it wasn’t just me. When I first got here, Sully was really candid about why they brought me here, but he also said that if his coaching team couldn’t get the best out of me, then they’d failed as coaches. I know this is probably going to sound strange to you guys, but it hadn’t even occurred to me that the coaches could mess up too. I only ever heard about how the problem lay with me, how I wasn’t doing enough, I needed to be better, do things differently. They insisted I had to take responsibility for me, but not once did any of the coaches in Edmonton say what Sully said to me that it could be down to them too. Now, it doesn’t seem like they were willing to accept that responsibility they were all too willing to say I had to take.”

He stops, takes a sip of beer. The guys in the room are listening intently and glancing away from the knot in the table he’s been staring at fixedly, he can see that none of them are looking horrified or disgusted. Their faces are soft, sympathetic, listening, not judging. It gives him the wherewithal to carry on. 

“The coaches were happy to let me think that everything that was going wrong was down to me and not even mention that maybe, their coaching wasn’t working. That if I kept doing what they said it would all come right. I don’t know anymore if it would have done. The difference between here and there is like chalk and cheese. There, they kept telling me to slow down, to think more, to assess the options. When I started to get things wrong, they insisted I had to think more, which just meant I was second-guessing myself more and more and then even still getting it wrong. To come here and be told to make the play quickly, to rely on instincts was like a revelation. Even as time has gone on, and I realise I’ve to make my decision within a framework of what the coaches want me to do, I don’t feel so hamstrung any more, like I can play in a way which suits me. There are still times when I’m out there and I’m still trying to second guess myself, habits too ingrained in Edmonton to shed easily. But it’s getting better.”

He stops, takes a mouthful of his beer, trying to dislodge the lump he’s feeling in his throat. This isn’t easy, being so open, exposing himself so much. But he’s still not seeing anything negative in their faces, that gives him the strength to carry on, to actually meet their gazes more, to accept the kindness and concern they are showing and be relieved there is little in the way of pity. 

“I’m not saying it wasn’t my fault. It was and I let my team down. I know I did that, even if the coaches didn’t remind me of that every day. But it wasn’t just the coaches, I’m starting to think my team let me down too. They were my team and we’re told all this stuff about team is so important, teammates are so important. But when things started going from bad to worse, it was like the team was afraid to spend time with me in case what was causing it was infectious and they’d catch it too. I was being chilled out and I took that as a sign of how much I was letting them down, which made it harder to turn things around.”

“Jesus Christ,” exclaims Phil. “Seriously? They turned away?” The interruption is sudden after they’ve been so accepting of what he is saying, but looking at Phil, he’s looks surprisingly angry, like he couldn’t restrain the words from coming out. Justin hopes it’s against his former team and not against Justin. 

“Not all of them,” Justin responds. “Ebs was great, I don’t know where I’d have been without him; Seksy did his best too.” 

It doesn’t seem to placate Phil much and Justin realises Phil’s anger isn’t directed at him. 

“Unless you’d been in there, it’s hard to describe what it was like,” Justin says, trying to make him understand, to see. Because the team hadn’t been there for him and he can see the lack of them now, given what’s happening now, in a city and a team where he’s a virtual stranger yet the team have exerted themselves again and again for him. If the roles had been reversed in Edmonton, he’s not sure he would have fought against the grain to be there for someone in Justin’s position, so belittled and put down. He’s not even sure whether Edmonton is the outlier or whether Pittsburgh is. But he thinks from their reactions, these guys who have played on a number of teams, he can see the answer to that and he feels shame and sorrow for his former team. It’s not easy to find your loyalty and your belief in your team was give up upon a false premise, that they played on his idealism and didn’t tell him all that was wrong. Even now, he wants to find some way of it being a misunderstanding, an error. 

“Most of the guys just wanted to keep their heads down, avoid the blame that would be flowing freely after a loss. McLellan would always try to find the person he thought was most responsible after a loss and put them up in front for the post match interviews. He called it ‘taking responsibility’.” He swallows again, closes his eyes, scrubs his face with his hands. “I ended up doing a lot of those. It’s not really any wonder why the other guys tried to steer clear of me. I was as close to a Jonah as you can get in the locker room.”

“Stockholm is not just the capital of Sweden,” Hags says softly into the silence which follows. Justin looks over at him sharply, wondering if he’s being mocked, but Hags face is soft and sad. He sees Justin looking and smiles reassuringly. “I know I wasn’t there, don’t know what it’s like to be in a place like that, and hopefully won’t either. But the guys all had a choice and and what they did was not what I learned as a hockey player. We’re taught from an early age that team is important, yet something is going wrong in their locker room if somehow, the players have lost sight of that pretty basic fact. For sure there will be reasons and excuses they used but that doesn’t get away from the fact that when you needed them, they weren’t there for you. I mean, we know there are assholes on every team, but it shouldn’t be nearly all of them. Where were the leaders, the guys who should know better than to allow stuff like that? You’d come through college, but were still a rookie, a young player and it sounds like how the team treated you was inexcusable when things started to go wrong. Instead of helping you through it they let you flounder and the worse things got, the more they backed away, when they should have been stepping up and helping you.” He shakes his head, eyes sparking with anger, the others making sounds of agreement. 

Justin finds himself relaxing. This is what he’d always thought, what he’d been taught about how teams work and he hadn’t wanted to find out it was all just young idealism that had fooled him into believing that's how pro-hockey was, that it was actually like the Oilers in reality. Listening to Hags, hearing Hags' anger, he's reassured that the problem was the Oilers. That Justin hasn’t been young and naive and innocent, taken in by propaganda. He’d thought not, seeing the Pens and how the team differs from the Oilers, but Hags has even more experience and he agrees that what the Oilers did was fucked up. That he wasn’t wrong to expect support from his team, most of which didn’t materialise. Somehow, it makes him more grateful for Ebs, trying to do the work of an entire team in being there for him when he needed it. He'd always known Ebs was one of the good guys, this just makes him respect him more, standing up for what he believes in. 

“But how Edmonton are fucking things up is not really that important. What about you? That sounds a pretty intense situation to get away from. How has the transition to here been?” Hags is still talking. 

Justin is surprised it’s Hags that asked. Dales and Phil have shown an interest before; Hags hasn’t been disinterested, but he also hasn’t gone out of his way with Justin. But the question… the question is very on point, scalpel-like in its ability to get to the heart of what Justin is feeling now. He’d known he was coming here to talk about stuff that had happened; stupidly he hadn’t imagined his feelings would be flayed quite so bare. 

“Being told I was traded… it was like the bottom had fallen out of my world. They’d been the only professional organisation I’d known even though the trade was telegraphed and things were bad there. Fuck, it’s hard. You know, when you’re in my situation, it’s confirmation of everything negative you ever thought.” All three of them are nodding in understanding. “And then I found out it was the Pens…” He hesitates. He wants to say it, but it’s so close to all his insecurities. “I couldn’t understand what the Pens would see in me, why they would want me.” He tries to laugh. “I was a failed d-man from one of the worst teams in the league, what on earth could the Pens see in me? But Jim and Sully sat me down on the first day and told me what they want and expect and I’m trying to get there so I can give them what they want.”

“And then like the team… coming from that locker room to this one. It feels like night to day. Right from the start I’ve been welcomed here, even if I’m just an end of season rental. You guys have been supportive, interested and I might be gone in a few weeks. Why do any of you care about a fuck-up from Edmonton? But you’ve worked so hard to make me feel part of the team. Even this here, now… you didn’t have to!”

He’s aware of a lump in his throat and he really doesn’t want to cry in front of them, but he’s not sure they understand the way the team, the players and the coaches have lifted the awful crushing weight from him that was slowly choking the life out of him in Edmonton. He remembers the bleak, black sense of despair he was living under just before news of the trade broke and realises just how much he has moved on since then. He feels like there is some light again; he feels like there is hope again. He’s still a bad hockey player, but somehow, Pittsburgh are bringing out the best in him and they’re doing it like it’s not a big deal. 

“Hey, it wasn’t all about you,” says Dales, smiling slightly. “We did have stuff we’ve been talking about sharing for a while. But you were the catalyst. It seemed like you needed to be able to talk more about it - you’ve hardly said two words about Edmonton since you got here.”

But Justin is staring in horror at Dales. He hadn’t realised he’d been so transparent, been letting his feelings show so much. “Does.. does everyone realise?” he stammers out, mouth dry. He doesn’t want them all wondering about the emotional wreck that’s landed in their locker room. 

Hags laughs and somehow that reaction is the best response, reassuringly genuine. “Fuck no. And if you told most guys, they’d be astounded,” he answers. “I mean, I knew things were fucked up for you in Edmonton, but not how they’d fucked you over too and how you are still hurting from it. And most of the team are like me; you’re open and friendly in the room, but we don’t really notice the fact you don’t really talk much about yourself until someone - like these guys - pointed it out to me. You don’t really know how you come across to us if you think that’s a possibility. It isn’t.” He shrugs, picks up his beer and discovers it’s empty. “Anyone for another?” He saunters out to go and retrieve their orders. 

Phil looks a bit embarrassed. “When you’ve had a shit time on another team, it’s somehow easier to spot others trying to deal with it too. But Hags is right - most of the guys were surprised at how Shears’ remark got to you at the pool night because of how well you seemed to be dealing with it all.” 

“I know he didn’t mean it, but at the time, I thought he did,” replies Justin. “I shouldn’t have reacted like that though, I know Shears meant it as a joke, but it just touched a raw nerve. Olli helped me understand.”

“Good,” says Dales. “I hope he told you we think you’re better than the way you played in Edmonton? We don’t see you as what was it you said - a fuck up from Edmonton. You’re still finding your feet but you’re going to be good for the team. There’s a reason why you were hyped out of college.” Phil’s nodding in agreement; Justin feels his face blushing; wants to straight out deny what Dales is saying because it’s hard to accept, but he also wants it to be true so much. “I’m sorry you went through that at Edmonton; if you ever feel like you’re being frozen out here, you come tell us or if you can’t tell us, tell Sid about it. He’s not going to let it happen either. Promise me that.” Dales stares intently at Justin, waiting until he bobs his head in agreement before continuing. “You need to know you can trust us not to do that to you and that means you need to know you’ve got our support if and when you need it. You do.” Dales is so emphatic, Justin finds it easy to believe. He doesn’t know what he has done to earn such support, but he’s profoundly grateful for it. 

“That means a lot,” he says in response. “I don’t think I’ll need it, I hope I don’t need it.. But thank you.”

“Or there’s Olli as well. We almost invited Olli here tonight as well, but in the end thought it better to just have those who got traded in along tonight,” says Dales. “You two seem to be close.”

“He’s a good guy. He’s very kind and thoughtful. And amazing given how young he is. I wish I was half the person he is at that age.” says Justin. He reminds himself to not get too enthusiastic, he doesn’t want them to realise he’s crushing on Olli. “He’s really helped me with finding my feet - it would have been a lot harder without him being there, realising what I needed sometimes even before I knew I needed it myself.”

“I think he’s enjoying it. I think he’s been a bit of a loner at times, neither a mongoose nor one of us old marrieds.” says Dales. 

Hags comes back in, somehow managing to carry all four beers, passing them around. “What are we talking about?”

“Olli helping Justin settle in,” responds Phil. Hags grins in answer. 

“Olli’s one of the good ones,” he says. “He can’t help being Finnish, but he battles through the handicap bravely. Sometimes he can even talk about feelings like a real human being!”

“He’s very good at talking about feelings!” exclaims Justin. That’s just so unfair. Justin is envious at times of how freely Olli can talk about the things that matter to him and how they make him feel. 

“That’s what I mean!” replies Hags. “He’s worked hard to overcome the Finnish repression that was built into him since he was a child. He’s come a long way; but sometimes he does back slide and decides that he won’t try for what he wants because he doesn’t deserve it, or because what he wants won’t be reciprocated or other crap like that.” Dales and Phil are nodding in agreement. 

“That’s crap,” says Justin. “Of course he deserves it. Someone like him deserves all the good things. But I guess it’s easy to get into a mindset like that of thinking you’re not good enough.” He carefully doesn’t meet anyone’s gaze, it’s still too close to how he feels about himself in too many ways. 

“Exactly so,” says Hags significantly. There’s a pause almost as though he’s waiting for Justin to say something more. Justin looks at him in confusion; and then his body registers just how much beer it's had. 

“Phil, where’s your restroom?”

0--0--0

As he approaches the lounge a few words of what the guys are saying drift back out to him. 

“... completely clueless,” Phil is saying. Dales laughs in response. 

“Oblivious. Going to be a long spring if that doesn’t change!” he says back. 

“What’s going to be a long spring?” Justin asks entering the room; he feels there’s a slight tension there upon his return. 

“The last of the season if the rest of the league keeps thinking Caps are the bees knees,” Dales says comfortably. “It’s like they expect us to fall over at any minute.” 

“Caps are the team to beat this year,” responds Hags. 

“They’ve gone off the boil,” replies Phil. “I’d rather play them now than two months ago. They’ve had it too easy recently, doesn’t matter if they win or lose. They’ve got fat and complacent.” 

“Does it matter? Don’t we just worry about the things we can control and just keep playing?” Justin challenges. 

Hags laughs, throwing his head back delightedly. “I think that’s the quickest assimilation we’ve had yet! What, three weeks and you’re already quoting Sully back at us? And Phil, did you just make a fat joke about the Capitals?” He holds his hand up to stop their protests. “Hey, I’m not saying either of you are wrong… just commenting!”

“Besides, I’d rather be going under the radar a little bit and letting the Caps take the pressure,” says Dales. “So long as we qualify in a good place, that’s the main thing. And it feels more and more like we will.”

“Just need to keep playing the right way,” Hags agrees blandly. His face is innocent, but his eyes are dancing after he mocked Justin for quoting Sully. 

It seems the emotionally charged part of the evening is over; all of them seemingly content now they’ve bared their souls to move onto lighter subjects. 

It’s a good night. Justin feels lighter for it, feels like he’s making bonds within the team and feels better for having been open about what he thinks happened in Edmonton and not have them recoil from him. It’s been cleansing. And to hear their reaction and to get some confirmation that the team had treated him unfairly, no matter how bad he had been is balm to his wounded, hurt soul. 

And just as they’re getting ready to leave, Phil disappears and reappears carrying a couple of boxes; one with meat loaf and one with apple pie. 

“I promised you extra! We can’t have you fading in away in your lonely hotel room,” he’s grinning broadly as he says it. 

“Oh thanks, man,” Justin says fervently, to laughter from the rest of them. “But seriously, thanks for an awesome evening. Not just for the food,” and he shakes the boxes gently, “but it’s been good to be able to talk about the crap and know you guys get it.” 

“Yeah,” says Phil. “Great call Dales.” And he’s pulling Dales in for a hug, and Hags is joining them and pulling Justin in. And it’s good, so good. 

Later, as Justin drives home, he feels the warmth of the evening staying with him, seeping into his soul and soothing some of the bare, raw patches. 

And he got meatloaf too!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, so yeah, we still have an Olli shaped hole. But from your comments there was a fair amount of editing and a bit of re-writing which I think did improve it overall. I do listen, even if you can't always see the results ;)
> 
> Everything crossed for a good result tonight!
> 
> Oh and c'mon down Carl Hagelin! You now have your very own tag!
> 
> And guys... this went over 200 subscriptions this week. That's just amazing. Thank you ever so much =)
> 
> ETA: Oh I'd meant to say. My idea of how different Scandinavian countries see each other is taken almost entirely from a really cute comic called 'Scandinavia and the world' SATW. I know Danes and Norwegians, but not so many Swedes and Finns, so I've relied to a large extent on how Finns are portrayed in SATW for Hags' generalisations about Finland and Olli. But check out the comic, it's really cute http://satwcomic.com


	21. The Pittsburgh Penguins Pool Champion

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's no way Tanger's going to miss an opportunity to assert his pool shark dominance over Justin and restore his reputation with the team..

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And after last week's Olli-hole.. there's a wee bit more Olli in this one. 
> 
> Well, actually quite a bit more!

The next day, going into practice, Justin finds himself whistling cheerfully. How has this become his life? He realises that he’s looking forward to practice, a bounce in his step as he crosses the car park, wondering what they’ll be working on today. He doesn’t have that feeling of dread and anxiety which had come to characterise his attendance at Oilers practices. 

And he’s actually thinking that play-offs might be a possibility rather than coming to terms with another year of disappointment, playing in the much-derided Oilers. Playing for a team which is good and getting better, where the locker room feels positive and fun and their coach has a plan and is seeking to improve his team by building them up, not continually knocking them down; where the players have bought in and are following his lead enthusiastically. 

He finds he’s grinning as he gets ready to leave the locker room to head to ice, feeling increasingly optimistic about their chances. Somehow, they’ve kept winning even without Geno and at the moment, every point is precious and takes them closer and closer to the play-offs. He can now understand the quiet confidence he had felt from the team upon arrival in Pittsburgh. Sure, not everything goes right, but somehow, they keep getting there. Resilience; one of Sully’s favourite words and this team has it in spades. They just don’t know when to quit. How different from the Oilers! 

“You look different,” Olli remarks as they’re stretching on the ice, side by side. Justin grins at him. He hadn’t thought he was showing how he is feeling, but he should know by now how perceptive Olli is. 

“Just realising how happy I am to be here,” he replies lightly. 

Olli’s grin is like the sun coming up, dimples peeping. “I’m happy you’re here also,” he says simply and then appears to start as he realises what he’s just said, a blush spreading across his face. Justin freezes, both at Olli’s words which resonate through him and at Olli’s blush. He’s unable to look away, entranced by the way the blush spreads, unable to say anything in return without incriminating himself completely, so all he can do is smile back. And then Olli’s smile is returning, shyier now but present. And that causes Justin to smile even more. 

It’s not until Sully skates by them and bangs his stick on the ice that Justin jumps, realises he’s been static, smiling at Olli with Olli smiling right back, blushing, oblivious to their surroundings.

“When we’re all done stretching we’ll get the practice underway!” Sully shouts across the ice, pointedly not looking at them. It’s Justin’s turn to blush as he jumps to his feet, turning his attention to practice, Olli mirroring his movements. In the hard work that follows, he doesn’t have much time to think about what Olli said, but it maintains and bolsters his warm glow even more. Olli is happy he came to the Penguins! 

0--0--0

Later, as he’s heading home from the rink, he finds himself remembering and wondering. He had put Olli’s reaction resolutely out of his mind to concentrate on practice, given the look Sully had given them. But now, he has time and leisure to wonder what it means. He’s pretty sure that Olli did actually mean he was happy for Justin to be there; his reaction was genuine. Knowing that continues to give Justin a warm feeling inside. But what did he actually mean? And why was he so embarrassed? 

He’d hope it meant Olli feels more for him than friendship, but he knows that’s really unlikely. Just because Justin likes Olli doesn’t mean those feelings would be returned and it’s dangerous to think that because of what Olli said, that they are returned. That way lies disappointment and dashed hopes. There aren’t many guys Olli could hang out with in Pittsburgh; most of the team are older and in relationships - what Dales had said yesterday about Olli being a bit of a loner Justin could see that in the team dynamics and understand. The mongooses are very much a group, having formed in the AHL and been brought up, with Olli an outsider and although they’re welcoming enough, he doesn’t seemed to have been engulfed in that group. Maybe he was just a bit lonely and is happy that there’s someone else like him, who isn’t part of the established groups, to hang out with. But that would be embarrassing to admit, so he could see why Olli was then embarrassed he’d said as much. At the same time, never mind his feelings towards Olli, Olli has been a good friend who has helped Justin settle in so much. His very dry but funny comments on the events on the team, the way he observes and understands what he is seeing and explains it so Justin can follow it too… all of those have helped Justin understand the team a lot better. So, while he might feel an ache that Olli didn’t mean it in the way Justin would want, he’ll take what he can get and take what he can get from being there for Olli too. At least he knows that Olli’s getting something from the relationship too and it’s not all one-sided. 

He just wishes it was more. 

0--0--0

Justin somehow isn’t surprised that more of the team make it along to the bar the next day than the previous week, given the importance they seem to be placing on his pool game with Tanger. There’s a few missing - but all the mongooses and AHL call-ups are in attendance, as are all of the d-men except Dales and most of the forwards. Justin’s surprised to see that even Sid is there; nursing a mineral water while Geno drinks beer like it’s water, relieved of concerns about playing the next day. 

There had been some move to just go straight to Justin playing Tanger but Shears had stared down anyone suggesting it, insisting that they play the usual tournament, brows drawn together and mouth set until he received the pot money from them and then he’d give them a brilliant, satisfied grin. Geno had waved his arm, still supported and wrapped, about to explain regretfully why he wouldn’t be playing - Shears hadn’t even asked Sid. 

Olli, leaning on the table next to Justin had laughed when Justin had pointed this out. 

“He doesn’t play pool, so the team decided it was just better, given his competitiveness, if he didn’t start now. He’s going to hate losing, so would probably become very obsessive about it,” he explains. 

“The team?” 

“Well, Horny, Kuni and Duper told Shears never to ask him in case he accepted,” replies Olli. “Geno backed them up. That kind of finished any discussion. He seems to have stopped wondering why he never gets asked now - we had to keep distracting him with fantasy football questions for a while whenever he brought it up.” 

Justin laughs. He’s noted the team’s interest in fantasy football, but hasn’t worked out how it works within the team yet. But of course, the one thing he’s realised is that Sid takes it all so seriously. It’s competitive, of course he does. 

He draws Murrs in the first round of the tournament. Murrs is methodical and clearly thinking about every shot, but at the end of the day, just not very good and Justin beats him handily. It’s a nice ease into the tournament. Murrs takes the defeat good naturedly. 

“What do you expect, man? I save things, not shoot them!” 

Justin’s been aware of Tanger watching him in action throughout the game and grins at him as returns to the table and the beer. 

“Sizing up the opposition?” 

Tanger grins back wolfishly. “Oh, I’m not worried!” 

“Sure you’re not!” 

“Oh I’ve seen you play now. I’m feeling pretty confident!” 

“We’ll see!” is all Justin can find to say in the face of Tanger’s confidence. He finds he’s rather daunted by it; he hasn’t seen Tanger play yet, so has nothing to judge whether he’s being trolled or whether Tanger is just convinced he’s better than Justin. 

He doesn’t have to wait long; Tanger takes on and beats Hags pretty easily. Justin, watching him, now understands why he’s been the Pens pool champion - someone has spent way too much time as a kid playing pool for someone also so good at hockey. 

“Well what do you think?” Rusty asks, seeing him watching Tanger pot the black. 

“He’s good,” admits Justin. 

“Can you beat him?

 

“Did you bet for me or against me?” 

Rusty laughs. “I haven’t bet yet,” he admits. “I can’t decide.” 

“Sneaky!” Justin says. “Trying to get me to decide for you.” A thought strikes him. “Know who Flower bet on?” 

“No,” replies Rusty. “I don’t think he’s bet yet either. If he has, he’s kept it quiet as I’d love to know too!” 

In a way, Justin is reassured by that. The team knows how well Tanger plays pool; if Flower is hanging back from betting on him, he’s worried that Justin can beat him. Given Flower’s reputation, there’s no way that he wants to place a bet he doesn’t have a good chance of winning. 

All too soon, Justin is called to the table to play again. He’s unlucky enough to have drawn Phil in the second round, and like last time, it’s a bit of a tussle but he gets there in the end, although he needs to bounce the black in off two cushions to pot it. It had been a tricky shot to make and he could have played safer, but the chance was there and it builds his confidence to have made it. There’s a cheer from the team when he does so, after they realised what he was lining up to attempt - even Phil can’t stop himself although he curses good-naturedly immediately after. All except Tanger, who is watching quietly, his face set with concentration and his eyes steely. 

“He really does take it seriously,” Justin says to Olli, who Justin has found himself standing next to. He knows that he did nothing to facilitate that, that Olli just appeared next to Justin. He’d been trying to keep his distance, to play it cool and control his crush, but he can’t help but be happy that somehow, they’ve ended up talking to each other again. 

“We did warn you!” replies Olli. His grin is soft, full of laughter. 

“You did,” Justin replies ruefully, stretching past Olli to snag a pitcher to top off his beer. Olli watches him critically. 

“Should you not be laying off that?” he asks critically. “Tanger’s on mineral water.” 

“I play better slightly buzzed,” Justin replies confidently. 

He gets a raised eyebrow back in return. “Really?” Olli is doubtful. 

“Well, probably not,” he replies. “But it feels better and it’s more enjoyable, so no, I’m not switching onto mineral water.” 

Olli just shakes his head at him. “You’re such a disappointment to me!” HIs smile has gone, his eyes are big and mournful and Justin feels it like a punch to his gut, struggles to hide the effect it has on him. He’s not going to switch to mineral water just because Olli thinks he should… he’s really not. 

“You’ve been spending too much time around Flower and Rusty!” he manages to choke out. 

Olli’s heartbroken expression vanishes in an instant to be replaced by a surprised and satisfied grin. “Really? It was that good?” he says. “It’s never had much effect before!”

“Oh yeah,” replies Justin fervently. “But I’m still drinking beer.”

“Not that good then,” and just like that, Olli’s heartbroken face is back. Justin deliberately turns away from him, so he doesn’t have to look at it, not sure he can withstand it, even though he knows it’s entirely manipulative. Saying no to like is like trying not to feed a begging dog. 

“Asshole,” he mutters. There’s a laugh from behind him. 

“Now Schultzy, that’s not a nice thing to call your team-mate!” says Flower, also from behind him, chidingly. “We’re here promoting team bonding and you’re calling Olli names.” 

“He deserves them,” insists Justin, turning around and ignoring Olli’s outraged repudiation. “Besides, I thought we were here to have either me beat Tanger or Tanger beat me at pool.”

“Well that too,” agrees Flower, shrugging. “And also, there’s a certain matter of an incident in Prague we need to clear up.” 

“Flower, do you ever give up? I’m not telling you!” 

“Well, since the answer to your first question is no, then you’d be much better off telling me and saving yourself a lot of stress and harassment as you are only delaying the inevitable.” 

Justin stares at him. He had hoped the first two stories would have been enough to dissuade Flower, but he’s underestimated him and he’s now caught without another one ready to go… and it’s not the kind of thing which is easy to think of on the fly. 

He looks over to Olli for any kind of help - unexpectedly he’s stepped back slightly so he’s out of Flower’s line of site and is mouthing something at Justin. Justin watches him for a moment, trying not to make it too obvious. Embassy? Is that what he’s saying? 

“Well, ok, if you must know… it’s about the embassy,” he says hopefully. He has no idea where to go with this, but obviously Olli has something in mind. And then a little splinter of inspiration strikes. Oh, yeah, Prague is a capital city, it will have foreign embassies… “That’s why they couldn’t tell anyone, it would cause a diplomatic incident.” He looks to Olli, who is nodding strongly. 

“Go on,” says Flower suspiciously.

He thinks back to who they played in the finals, taking a mouthful of beer to give himself more time. He can almost feel the sweat starting on his forehead - this is hard. Russia! 

“Well they decided to go to the Russ” as the word starts to come out of his mouth, Olli is shaking his head frantically, pointing at someone in the room.. “No hang on that’s not right.. Let me try t remember,” Justin’s trying to work out what Olli means.. He’s pointing at Phil… Phil isn’t an embassy.. He’s not Russian. Oh! He’s an American. “No, sorry the American Embassy. That was it.” 

Flower’s entire face is proclaiming his scepticism. “Do continue,” he murmurs. Fuck, this is hard. What would they be doing at the American Embassy after winning the World Championship? And then he has to stop himself from grinning as he sees exactly what a Canadian team might want to do to an American Embassy after they win the World Championship. He relaxes slightly, seeing his tension drain mirrored in Olli, who’s obviously understood Justin’s got something. 

“Well, it was Hamhuis’ idea. He wanted to do it to annoy Kesler. They wanted to claim the American Embassy as Canadian due to them having been conquered in the World Championships, so the Canadian team tried to break into the embassy to raise the Maple Leaf over it.” Behind Flower, Olli is nodding approvingly and Justin warms to the task of selling it now. Flower is looking less sceptical now; whether that’s because he believes Justin or he just wishes it had happened, Justin isn’t sure. 

“They were caught, of course, before they got very far. Seguin and Giroux were charged with being the guys to break in, since both of them said they’d some experience. But Seguin couldn’t stop giggling so they were caught by the Marine guards. Giroux was furious apparently. The Marines then found the rest of the team in the grounds, waiting to be let into the building. Sid was holding the Maple Leaf they’d brought with them to raise over the embassy. Fortunately, the guards were from the north so were hockey fans themselves and agreed to take no further action, except for informing the Canadian team management, if they got to keep the Maple Leaf and Sid and the rest of the team signed it.” 

He takes a deep draught of beer at the end of that. He feels like he needs it and is entitled to some reward. Then a bit of his brain whispers.. sell it some more… so he does. 

He looks at Flower pleadingly. “Don’t tell Sid I told you or that you know? It’d be really serious for everyone if it got out. Canadian team trying to break into the US Embassy. Lots of people would go nuts, and the Marines would get into trouble and they gave the team a massive break.” He’s almost believing it himself and he thinks its that which causes Flower to nod. 

At that moment, a shout goes up for Justin from the rest of the room, and he turns to find himself being called on to come and play his next pool game, this time against Dumo. It’s not great timing, he wants to see how Flower reacts to the story, but he’s really got to go. If he can beat Dumo, then he’s into the final, where he’ll likely play Tanger, and the team would likely kill him if he gave up now. Also, Dumo would be left facing Tanger. Hmm… a large part of pool is psychological and he hasn’t really used that until now. 

“Hey Dumo,” he says, as Dumo lines up to break, pool cue already moving in his hand. Perfect timing. “Maybe I should let you win, then you get to face Tanger in the final! No stress that way for me!” 

Dumo miscues massively as he breaks, balls skittering everywhere. 

“You bastard!” he exclaims staring at the table with dismay, where none of the balls have gone in, but he’s left Justin with a wide open table. Justin grins sharkishly. He’s got this round in the bag. There’s an outcry from around the room as they debate his tactics, but Tanger remains silent, saluting him with his mineral water before settling back to watch his every move closely. Some might even call it obsessively. 

0--0--0

Of course he meets Tanger in the final. And from the outset, Justin knows he’s in trouble; he can’t leave Tanger with anything or it’s gone, with a punishing precision that Justin doesn’t believe he can match. They’d agreed to play the best of three beforehand to prevent any arguing, once it was over, about playing more. 

The room is alive with taunts and chirps as they play; Team Schultzy sniping at Team Tanger and Team Tanger sniping straight back. Justin’s surprised there is even a Team Schultzy, and it’s more than just Olli - which is what he’d feared. Phil and Hags are firmly in his team too, cheering on his successes, niggling Tanger over his misses, and Justin remembers that Hags like to race against Tanger to beat him too. Sheary and Horny too, although the rest of the mongooses appear to have joined Team Tanger. Sid is being scrupulously neutral, Geno is having too much fun mocking Tanger and Flower is being an asshole to everyone - as usual. But Colesy, treacherously, has gone over to Team Tanger and Justin gives him a glare when he realises. 

“What!” exclaims Colesy innocently. “You’re my buddy and my d-man, but I’ve seen Tanger play pool and I’m not losing money for you!” 

Justin shakes his head. “That’s the last time I bust my ass for you on a two-on-one!” he says, incredulously.

“Hey man, you can’t take what happens off the ice onto the ice!” replies Colesy. 

“I’m so disappointed in you; I’ve never felt so betrayed!” and Justin’s proud of how upset he manages to sound. Colesy is even taken in for a moment, then stares at him a moment longer. 

“You asshole! I was nearly believing you there!” 

Justin’s too busy laughing to respond. Besides, there are plenty of ways to get his revenge later. In the meantime, he has a pool game to try to win. 

Tanger’s precision is daunting; but as Justin plays on, he starts to spot some flaws and works to exploit them. Tanger takes the first game, but it’s a lot closer than it had looked at first, Justin really getting to work as Tanger started to struggle with more limited options. Still Tanger fist pumps when he takes the first game. 

“You’re just relieved!” chirps Justin; there’s no way he’s admitting any doubts about his ability to win this. 

Tanger just arches an eyebrow at him. “You wish!” is all he says in return, waving Justin to break. 

Justin catches some luck on the break - or as he’d like to describe it - skill, potting two balls, fortunately both the same pattern. The third and fourth follow before Tanger even gets a chance to come to the table and the noise from the team redoubles while Tanger’s starting to smile in the way Justin’s seen him do all too often in games which means he isn’t happy. He flubs the shot on the fifth, but fortuitously leaves the white out of harm's way. 

“Flukey!” says Tanger as he strolls around the table, trying to find something with a chance of success. 

“Planned!” replies Justin. “That shot was risky, better to leave you with nothing if it didn’t come off.” 

He’s proud of the confidence he manages to project, even though he’s plain out lying, resulting in another round of chirps, catcalls and general merriment from Team Schultzy. The noise redoubles when Tanger misses his shot, leaving Justin with an easy shot for the fifth, which he is able to follow up with his six. That leaves him with just one last ball and the black to pocket, and Tanger hasn’t potted anything yet - it also makes Justin’s job considerably more difficult as the table is now littered with Tanger’s balls. Of course, those get fewer as Justin battles to sink his final ball, and eventually he does, but Tanger has cut his deficit in half and the room has quietened as the tension cranks up. Tanger sinks another of his, and now he’s only three balls behind Justin and he’s working hard to keep the black hidden and out of sight. 

He can’t maintain it. He misses a tricky shot and his ball, going awry, kisses into the black dislodging it from the cushion it was nestled gently onto. From there, it’s an easy shot for Justin to finish the game. All evens now, and it’s come down to the third to act as decider. 

The third is tense. Tanger is fierce and focussed and intimidating in his desire to win. Justin is fighting back with everything he’s got, determined not to give in, and the momentum swings back and forth between the pair. It almost feels like the air in the room is crackling and sizzling with the fierceness of the battle between them; even the rest of the team have quietened, drawn into the battle of attrition. 

They’re both down to their final balls, playing carefully, trying to get an advantage, when Tangers’ shot leaves the cue ball short, given Justin a shot at pocketing his ball. He smiles dazzlingly at Tanger as he moves to the table, lining up carefully. A firm stroke and his ball is sinking into the pocket, the white screwing back, to a cheer from Team Schultzy and calls of disgust and chips from Team Tanger. 

And then it happens. The white ball picks up a hair or dust or something and caroms off course, striking the black firmly. The room suddenly goes silent as the black starts rolling towards the centre pocket. Justin holds his breath; Tanger is shaking his head in disbelief as it rolls up to the lip before dropping in with a final thud. 

There is silence in the room for a moment. Then Team Schultzy are on their feet, cheering and Team Tanger are on their feet protesting. Tanger looks absolutely furious for a moment but then shakes his head ruefully.

“Fucking flukey fucker!” he says, reaching to shake Justin’s hand. “And don’t even try to pretend you meant to do that!” 

Justin’s grin widens. He’d have loved to try that but it is just too far a reach. Everyone saw the weird movement of the cue ball. 

“Sometimes you just get the luck! But, I’d have had you even without that,” he says with more confidence than he feels. He’s sure there will be a rematch at some point and he’s not giving up whatever psychological bonus he’s got from this win. 

“Yeah right. This is not the last of it, my friend!” Tanger growls at him, game grin on. 

“Counting on it!” replies Justin, before Shears comes bouncing over, pulling Justin away from Tanger, standing him so he’s presented to the team. 

“Pittsburgh Penguins… I give you… the unbeaten… Pittsburgh Penguins Pool Champion!” Shears announces to the room, grinning broadly, ignoring Tanger’s growl at the introduction. Team Schultzy are cheering and Justin can feel his face heating up. He’s not used to being the subject of such public celebration, and is happy when Shears lets him escape to the table with the pitchers of beer to top off his glass again. 

Olli finds him there. 

“Good job!” he says, smile huge in celebration. Justin can’t help but smile back, caught by the generosity of Olli’s continual support, no matter the occasion. 

“It was a fluke. Tanger really should have beaten me,” he replies. It’s the truth after all. Olli shakes his head at him. 

“Yeah, but that’s what’s really going to drive Tanger crazy!” says Hags. He looks as smug as though he had actually beaten Tanger himself. 

“You really enjoy Tanger getting beaten” says Justin. 

“What can I say? He’s so competitive. It’s just fun.” And Hags shrugs, mischievous expression on his face. “Besides, for all I know, it makes him try harder on the ice, and that’s a good thing for all of us.” 

The rest of the team congratulates Justin over the remainder of the evening; he’s relieved to see no-one’s nose is out of joint, that it’s been taken in good fun. Even Tanger gets over it quickly although he reassures Jusin there will be a rematch. 

“I want my title back!” He was laughing as he said it, but there’s that glint in his eye which shows there’s some truth lurking there. 

“I’ll be here next week,” Justin had replied. Tanger shudders. 

“Between two home games? Catherine would kill me! Some of us do have responsibilities. I’m already owe her dinner for tonight!”

Justin laughs. Despite Tanger’s protestations, he suspects that Tanger will be back at the first possible opportunity, even if he can’t make next week.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, that pool scene was such a toil. Just glad I'm done with it, and I've managed to re-establish a bit of a buffer (not much, but more than I had!) as the next scenes are writing up easily. 
> 
> Ok.. so what a week! 4 point game for Justin... and they won the craziest game ever... 
> 
> Just a couple of things caught my eye - and indeed one of them was as I was looking for another link.. but 31 second into this video https://www.nhl.com/penguins/video/pens-pulse-011917/t-277437428/c-48501403 Olli grinning at Justin in the locker room! 
> 
> And then Olli's first goal of the season.. look at the grin on Justin's face as he congratulates him! 
> 
> http://1.cdn.nhle.com/penguins/images/upload/gallery/2017/01/632028002_slide.jpg
> 
> I should probably resurrect my tumblr and start blogging this stuff! (but then less writing time... hmmm).


	22. A study in underestimating your importance..

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Moonlight strolls and anniversary gifts... 
> 
> (Ok, this could be construed as false advertising, as there isn't any moonlight mentioned anyplace. Although I'm kind of wishing I'd thought of it sooner... )

It’s not a late night for the team with the game tomorrow and soon Justin finds himself walking back to the hotel. Olli seems to be walking with him; Justin’s not sure why, but he’s not going to question it or object. 

“Hey, thanks for giving me that idea to stave off Flower,” Justin suddenly remembers. “I had no idea what I was going to say, didn’t have anything worked out. You got me out of a hole. I didn’t know if that’s what you meant, but it worked at least.”

“For sure,” says Olli cheerfully. “You looked lost there. I’m not sure what I meant, I just thought something with the US embassy, but you picked it up and ran with it.”

“Why not the Russians?”

Olli pulls a face. “No-one would mess with the Russian embassy. If they hadn’t been beaten up, they’d probably have kidnapped them and brainwashed them into thinking they were Russian players.” 

“Geno wouldn’t have let that happen,” says Justin confidently. 

“He might not have had a choice,” says Olli darkly. “Anyway, the US was the safer bet, more believable, more fun to mess with. The Finns probably wouldn’t have noticed anything going on at their embassy unless it affected their sauna and the Swedes would probably have thought it was really cool and helped them.”

Justin laughs at the image. “So you’re saying you’re exceptional as a Finn because you notice everything!” 

“Not everything,” protests Olli. “I just pay attention to what’s going on around me. I don’t think it’s that unusual. I just don’t have much faith in the Finnish embassy the night that a major international hockey tournament ends.” He pauses. “But hey, since we’re talking about me noticing everything, were you relieved when the guys on the team weren’t upset with you for beating Tanger?” 

Justin just shakes his head. He’s starting to think that Olli is some kind of mind reader, the way he knows what Justin is thinking, is worried about. 

“One day I’ll know how you know to ask me about stuff like that. I didn’t say a thing, yet still you knew!” he replies. 

Olli glances sideways at him. “I don’t think I’m doing anything special, just paying attention is all. I like watching...” and he breaks off there, biting his lip. “I like to know what’s happening with my teammates so I just look out for them. Sorry if it makes you uncomfortable,” and he looks crestfallen as he says it, almost withdrawing into himself. 

Fuck! Justin hastens to reassure him. He’s never going to object to being the subject of Olli’s attention. 

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m not complaining. In fact it’s really nice to know someone is looking out for me the way you do,” and he smiles shyly at Olli, relieved to see that Olli has relaxed again, little anxiety creases in his brow falling away, small smile returning at Justin’s words. “But it’s how much you notice. It’s like you have goalie powers. There’s times you’ve realised stuff about me before I’ve realised it about myself!”

Olli looks at him doubtfully. “I’m not sure that’s right,” he says. “I’m just doing what anyone could do. Honest, no goalie powers! But you also haven’t answered the question… “

Justin kicks himself for not realising that of course Olli’s tenacity would have kicked in. He’s not going to be able to get out of this with distraction. 

“I’m not sure I genuinely thought they would be upset that I’d beat Tanger… but yeah, I didn’t realise until they weren’t that it was something I’d had worries over. There really was no reason why they should have done - hell, Team Schultzy were making their feelings known, loud and proud,” and he watches Olli to see how he’ll react to this, given Olli had been one of the loudest cheerleaders. Olli just laughs and shakes his head, but there’s pride there too. “But yeah, just crap from other teams does make you wonder what happens when the short-term rental beats one of the team’s core players. And nothing happens, it’s a good evening. No-one thinks I shouldn’t have tried to beat him, or I should have deferred to him, or that me beating him was bad for team bonding or any of that crap. It’s how it should be, but it is a relief to have it confirmed that’s how it is here. Even though I see it all the time, you know. The expectation is still there sometimes that it’s a blip and normal crap will resume soon. Except it isn’t.”

“And it won’t. If you were an asshole it could be different, but you’re not.”

“Why Olli, did you just say I wasn’t an asshole? I’m so flattered by that, it’s almost like you’re hitting on me!” and he can’t resist it, he flutters his eyelids at him. To his surprise, Olli blushes. 

“Well, now you are being an asshole,” he mutters, looking away. 

“Normal service is resumed,” says Justin. “It was nice thinking I had your respect for once!”

“Oh you really are an asshole,” Olli says indignantly and then splutters to a stop in the face of Justin’s broad grin. “Fuck you!” 

They continue to chirp each other on the way back to the hotel, and once again, stop outside. 

“You know, you really should find someplace to live other than this,” Olli says. “Are you not bored of it yet?”

“I was bored of it by the first week,” admits Justin. “But what if I sign a place and then we crash and burn?” 

“We’re not going to do that. But there must be short term lets or something you can do. I’m sure they do them at my apartments - I’ll check if you want?” 

Justin nods. “That’d be great, if you could?” 

And that’s Olli doing it again, anticipating a problem for Justin, and maybe even coming up with the solution as well. He just feels so grateful to him. He doesn’t know what he’s done to deserve Olli’s interest or support, but he’s happy he’s got it. But he can’t help wishing there was more to it than friendship. 

“Yeah, I’ll check with the management office tomorrow, they’ll know what’s going on,” Olli replies. 

“Cool.”

He finds himself wanting to prolong the conversation, to keep it going, to not have Olli go away and leave him. He tamps it down firmly; he’s not a lovesick teenager anymore, pining over Tyler King in high school. He still doesn’t know why Olli elected to walk him back across town, but he needs to let him get away, they have a game tomorrow. But Olli doesn’t show any signs of wanting to leave, just leaning against the side of the hotel, kicking at the sidewalk idly. And Justin should be the responsible player here, make his excuses and get to bed… 

“So, when do you think Tanger will want a rematch?” he asks instead. 

It takes another 45 minutes of chat and gossip and laughter before they bring the conversation to the close, both of them obviously reluctant, but the weight of the game pushing down on them more and more. 

0--0--0

Justin’s pretty early to the rink the next day, to the point where he’s being chirped by Bones. He’s never as late as most of the mongooses, but he’d bounced out of bed that morning, eager to get on with the day. However, he can’t seem to get out of the changing rooms to get his practice kit on; everytime he tries, someone else interrupts him to ask him something else, or to get his help with something. He’s actually starting to get a bit frustrated; all the guys who asked him for help have moved through before him, and he’s caught trying to help Rusty find his phone which he’s apparently dropped in the changing area. Just as he’s about to make his apologies and leave, there’s an explanation from Rusty. 

“Found it! Sorry Schultzy, it was my pocket all along! Oh god, I’m so sorry man for wasting your time!” His face is contrite and apologetic “I felt it when someone texted me. Hey, look how late it is, we’d better go get our kit on or we’ll be late!”

Justin just growls at that, he’d been here in plenty of time and now he’s going to have to rush. 

He pushes into the locker room with a scowl on his face, but as he looks at his stall, he does a double-take. It’s covered in tupperware boxes… what the fuck? There’s a hushed silence in the locker room as the rest of the team watch him make his way over. 

On top of the boxes, there’s a handwritten note. 

_We heard you were getting bored of hotel food! Happy 3rd week anniversary!_

“Guys!” he says almost despairingly. At least there’s no glitter involved in this one - well none he’s found yet. He reaches over and picks up a tupperware at random and peaks inside cautiously. It’s holding a slab of meatloaf and gravy and potatoes; there’s a #1 written on the side. The next one he peaks into has some kind of chicken and dumplings; there’s a #14 scribbled on the corner of the lid. The third one has a generous tiramisu in it with a #13 on the side of the box. He doesn’t have time to check them all, but he’s seen enough to realise that this week’s present is a shit load of home-cooked food. 

“The numbers tell you who to give the boxes back to - some of our wives were pretty adamant. We heard you were fading away to nothing in your hotel room,” says Kuni, grinning. “The chefs have said you can store some of in in their freezer or refridgerator here if you need to as it’s going to take a while to get through.”

“It wasn’t that bad!” he protests. “You didn’t need to go to all this trouble on my behalf!” 

“We heard you ate 80% of Phil’s meatloaf,” replies Horny. “We can’t let you fade away to nothing.”

“Oh come on fellas,” says Hags, leaning back in his stall, laughing. “It was only 75%, no need to exaggerate.” 

“And it was no trouble,” says Cullen. “Bridget was only too happy to help when I explained to her about our new defenceman, wasting away for lack of home-cooked food. You’ve got her pie. Don’t waste it!” 

“But you got your wives to do this for me?” Justin is dazed at this. And the notice must have been short if it came from his dinner at Phil’s. 

There are protests from both Bones and Dumo who apparently didn’t rely on wives or partners to cook Justin food. He nods in acknowledgement. He’s too dazed though to mutter more than an apology. Once again, they’ve entirely surprised him with the sheer kindness in something which is also a joke. He manages to mutter a few words of gratitude, but this week they’re kind of waved off by the team, most of whom have been sitting enjoying his bemusement. 

It’s Sid - of course - who notices the time.

“Fun though this is, we’re due in practice in three minutes. Those of you not ready had better kit up pronto!” he says as he gets up to lead the way to the ice. 

Justin rolls his eyes a little, but with some assistance from Olli and Colesy, he manages not to be late onto the ice. 

Just.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There's a whole military operation you guys don't see which is going into organising these gifts... having Rusty delay Justin because he's unexpectedly early is just the tip of it... Some of the behind the scenes stuff on that would probably make another alternate POV if ever I get around to writing any! 
> 
> I may have used some of the stuff you've been telling me on Finnish culture in this one! =) 
> 
> So dilemma coming up. I've been staving it off... but I'm so near to catching up with posting almost everything I've written. I've got most of next week's chapter written, and that's it. If I have to, which would you prefer:  
> a) dropping the frequency with which posters are posted to once every two weeks for a while or  
> b) taking a month off from posting, and then going back to posting weekly?


	23. How to take a loss badly

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Penguins stutter in their push for the play-offs and it really gets to Justin.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Things have been going pretty well for Justin, haven't they?
> 
> Ah well.

Much later, after the tupperware boxes have been stored until he can get them home, he catches Sid in the players' lounge. 

“Hey Sid, do you have a moment, can I have a word?” he says to Sid. Sid’s eyebrows go up momentarily, then he’s nodding, leading them away from most of the other players towards a quieter area. 

“Sure Schultzy, what’s up?”

It’s nerve-wracking asking anything of Sid. Yes, he’s the captain, but he’s also the Captain and he’s Sidney Crosby and so far above Justin that it’s dizzying. But Justin doesn’t know another way to do this, so he finds himself taking a deep breath to try and steady his nerves, to not let on how nervous he is about asking Sid for anything. 

“Yeah, it’s about the welcome gifts.” He’s really working hard at trying not to sound ungrateful. “They were great - they are great… but I just wonder if the joke’s done now, to let the guys know it’s ok to stop wasting their time.” He feels like his face is crimson as he stumbles to the end of his request. 

“Ok, I’m sorry to hear you say that,” Sid answers seriously. “I hope we haven’t made you feel bad or embarrassed you?”

Justin hadn’t felt like his face could get redder, but somehow, it has. “No.. no,” he stammers. He hadn’t thought that’s how his request could come across. “It’s just… the guys have surely got better things to do with their time. It was a really great idea, that someone had noticed, but it’s cool now. And everyone’s so busy, they shouldn’t have to be sorting this out for me now.”

“Hmmm,” says Sid thoughtfully. “So you want us to stop because you think the guys are wasting their time doing this for you? That they have other more important things to be doing than doing this for you?” 

Justin nods. He’s grateful that Sid has understood his problem with it. But to his surprise, Sid sighs. 

“Justin, you know the importance of team don’t you?” 

“Of course,” he replies, wondering what Sid is thinking. It’s not the response he thought he’d get, and he can feel the anxiety building, that Sid’s doing to rip into him. 

“Well, you’re part of our team. Us doing things to recognise that isn’t a waste of time. If it was making you uncomfortable, if it was making you feel like you weren’t part of the team, I’d stop it in a heartbeat. But you want me to step in because you don’t feel important enough, like you are unimportant to us. That, to me, isn’t really a good reason to stop, because you are important to the team, both for what you bring as a player and for yourself as a person. If I stopped it, I’d be agreeing with you that you’re not that important and I just don’t agree. In fact, if anything it seems more important that we keep doing it than ever.”

Justin suddenly finds the breath catching in his throat. “But I’m just a rental…”

Sid cuts him off. “No, you’re a Penguin. That’s all that matters now. Who knows what happens in the off-season? We don’t know who’ll stay, who’ll go, who’ll be traded. There’s a bunch of guys who could be gone over the summer. So all we can do is focus on the now, and the now is that you’re a Penguin, one of us and important to the team. Don’t think of yourself as less just because you’ve only been with us for three weeks.” And then his crooked grin of real amusement splits across his face. “Besides, the team are having so much fun with it - it’s been good to have something which isn’t hockey focussed. You probably don’t want to know some of the things suggested so far. It would stop you sleeping at night. It’s stopped me sleeping at night!”

Justin tries to gather his scattered thoughts, which have been blown apart from what Sid - Sidney Crosby! - has just said to him. He hadn’t thought that the team might be enjoying doing it for him. He’d just assumed that after a couple of weeks, it would become a drag and a toil and they’d be grateful for the excuse to stop it. 

“I don’t know what will happen to it.. It’ll probably die a death of its own if the people behind it start to struggle for ideas. But until then, just accept it as a demonstration that we are happy you are on the team. And, by the fact that we are doing it, you are important to the rest of us on the team. If nothing else because you can beat Tanger at pool!” Sid is grinning broadly now, but his eyes are sharp as he looks at Justin. 

Justin smiles back. “Thanks Sid,” he says softly. 

“No problem,” says Sid. “I’m glad you came to me about it though, and we were able to talk. Don’t ever feel you’re too unimportant for me to bother with. You’re team, and you’re not too unimportant to bother me.” 

Justin feels like Sid is looking right through him now, to be able to read what Justin had been thinking earlier. But he does feel reassured. For all the hoopla that surrounds him, the demands put on him, the enormous reputation, at moments like these, he can see Sid as just another hockey player, a teammate and one, for all the criticism he gets about his leadership, understands his team. That makes him seem more human and approachable. 

“Anyway,” continues Sid. “You need to come over for dinner one night, we haven’t had you around yet.” He pauses for a moment, clearly thinking. “That road trip at the end of the season is just screwing everything up. What about Monday? I know it’s short notice, but it’s about the only evening available before season end.” He looks at Justin questioningly. 

Well, it’s not like he has a busy social diary. To be fair, his captain - Sidney Crosby! - is inviting him for dinner, so he’d probably cry off anything he had on anyway. 

“Yeah, that’d be great,” he says. 

Sid grins again. “Great. I’ll invite Olli as well, he knows where we are so he can bring you over. Now, I have sticks to prepare, so if we’re good here, I’ll head out and get that done.”

Justin reassures him, and they head off to continue their respective days.

0--0--0

He leaves the rink as quickly as possible after the game, not speaking to anyone more than he needs to. Some guys like to talk out a loss; he’s never been like that and certainly not after Edmonton. 

He thinks he should feel something, but he feels numb. There had been enough anger and frustration reverberating around the room that maybe he should have picked up on it, take it to himself, but instead, he’s just numb, trying not to think, using all the tricks he tried in Edmonton to deal with disappointment. 

Firstly, just get back to a place of refuge. It doesn’t take long to get back to the hotel thankfully, and there he can close out the world. 

It had been a shit show. An utter shit show. Nothing they had done had worked. The more desperation they had played with, the more the Devils had fallen back and defended and they just hadn’t been able to get anything through. It’s all the more astonishing after they had been playing so well, and while he doesn’t expect to win - he’s a former Oiler, he doesn’t think he’s ever going to get so complacent as to expect to win - a bad game is hitting him worse now than it used to do. Perhaps because they’ve had so few of them since he got to Pittsburgh. He’s only been on ice for one loss since he arrived and that was a close game, not a three goal shut out by a team whose play-off hopes had gone. Not a stupid trap game played by a trapping team which had smothered them every time they’d try to get out the neutral zone. Not a game where they’d been playing a third string goalie who had been a wall, fending off what few shots they could get on net. 

He realises the sense of numbness is wearing off, replaced with the blackness of despair and anger and grief. Sully had told them to remember how they were feeling now, and use it in the future as something to draw on. He’s not sure he needs to, he’s experienced every kind of bad loss there is. But he does want to rage and scream at the unfairness of it all, the timing. He’d actually believed he was getting back onto a more even keel, a better place. But he should have remembered that when it comes to hockey, it always goes wrong for him. He should know better than to expect good things from hockey, he’s a fuck up from Edmonton and of course, just when he has hope, his hopes will be dashed again and he will be reminded by the hockey gods that he’s a fuck-up from Edmonton who can only play hockey badly.

The one thing that means he’s not going on a self-destructive spiral is that he can’t point at anywhere he let the team down badly. He can see where he could have done things better, but there were no big fuck ups. Just nothing very good either, an evening of nothing quite going right, nothing to make him feel like he brought them anything tonight either. He tries to cling onto what Sully said afterward, about there being hiccups along the way and it’s how they respond, but right now, it just feels hollow, like blowing smoke, excuses. He could have been better, he should have been better and he wasn’t and they lost. 

If only they’d traded for a better defenceman than him, they might not have lost the game. Someone who can puck handle and skate and score and defend - those things he pretends he can do and the team seems to think he can do. But then he’d still have been in Edmonton and truthfully, honestly, now he’s out of there, he’s not sure he would have survived that much longer. So the selfish part of him, the horrible part of him, is glad they did trade for him as although he’s not as good as any other replacement they could have got, that he drags the team down just by his very being, it’s better for him personally. Even as he destroys their hopes and their chances by not being good enough, by not being the player they need. Afterall they’ve done for him, he knows it’s selfish and hates himself a little for it, for being so weak as to think he is more important than them. 

His phone buzzes with a message; he ignores it. He really doesn’t want to talk to anyone else right now. He’s going through his postgame routine on autopilot, just trying to get through it, heating food up and eating it and more rehydration, rubbing ointment into tired muscles. He doesn’t switch on the television, not wanting to see anything related to hockey if he can avoid it. He’s all too happy to head to bed once done, hopeful that he can escape into sleep, leave how he’s feeling behind. 

0--0--0

Miraculously he did escape into sleep quickly, he realises as he wakens to the sound of his alarm going off the next day. He must have blacked out pretty quickly and that surprises him. In Edmonton, feeling how he had, there would have been no way he’d have slept.

But he’s also woken up considerably lighter than he would have done in Edmonton. They did lose last night, and it had felt awful. But he knows going to practice this morning, Sully will already be telling them how they can improve, what they need to do, keeping them focussed on the goal of making the playoffs. There’s not going to be the atmosphere of blame and recrimination he’s used to from Edmonton. Despite that, he can now see he fell back into his old thought patterns from Edmonton; darkness heaped on blackness and piled on despair. 

But now, having slept on it he can honestly believe that the loss wasn’t down to him. He hadn’t been great, but neither had anyone else. A different defenseman wouldn’t necessarily have been better. That was his despair and his self doubt talking and he had fallen for it and listened. All the things he’s learned in Pittsburgh had been forgotten while he’d been busy heaping so much blame on himself. It’s an uncomfortable thought to realise how easily he went back there, returned to that mindset despite the work by Sully and Olli and everyone else to reassure him that he wasn’t as bad as they made out in Edmonton. 

He sighs as he makes breakfast. He’s tired of feeling so fragile. It is better than it was in Edmonton - so much - but sometimes it just seems to be the smallest thing which sets him off and turns his mind backwards. Losses are bad, but no hockey team ever has a perfect record and he’s going to have to adapt his response to them. Learn from the people around him - like Olli - and then he’s diverted from that thought by the recollection that someone, probably Olli, had messaged him last night and he’d ignored it. 

Sure enough, on screen is a message from Olli. But it wasn’t him checking up on Justin like he’d kind of assumed. 

_would it be ok for you to pick me up a bit before practice tomorrow? think I need to go in and see the trainers and driving home was pretty painful - is ok?_

Fuck. The lack of any further requests is almost painful, the shy unassuming request awful in its simplicity and Justin feels like a shit. Olli’s been there for him so much and the one time he asks something of Justin, he gets ignored. He’s calling before his brain has even processed it. 

Fortunately Olli answers; he doesn’t ignore the call as Justin had wondered if he would. 

“Olli, I’m so sorry,” he exclaims. “I crashed early last night and didn’t see your message until now. Do you still need that lift? I’ve still got time to come over and get you. How are you feeling?” 

“Schultzy, thanks. I don’t feel so good, so I do need to go see the trainers to get it looked at. It hasn’t got better overnight. Was just going to call Sid, but I didn’t want to worry him.” 

Olli, for the first time since Justin has met him, sounds uncertain. 

“So you thought you’d worry me instead?”Justin teases gently. “Don’t worry, it’s cool, send me your address and I’ll be with you shortly.”

He’s been bustling around, his morning routine a little out, but at least his bag for the road trip was packed last night, so he only has to throw in the last few things he’d used that morning, pick up his suit carrier and he’s heading over to Olli’s. They’re off to Detroit from practice, on a two game road trip

On the way though, his mind is buzzing around. What if Olli’s injured? How bad will it be? Is he going to have to sit? What effect will it have on the team? How is Olli going to take it? How bad is it? 

Then he realises what he’s doing, turns the music up extra loud and tries to concentrate on that and following the GPS’s directions and not obsessing about Olli being hurt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, via Sid, you get a little bit about what's going on with the anniversary gifts... In my head, immediately after Justin leaves Phil's house, Phil is straight onto group chat going "CANCEL EVERYTHING HE NEEDS HOME COOKING!!!" And that there's a bunch of hockey players (the ones that can't cook) who are making puppy dog eyes and laying it on thick to their partners about how they have this starving new hockey player so can they please cook something for him because otherwise he might die. Because really, they had no time to put that together.
> 
> Apologies for typos; I'm getting less time to edit now (yeah, I could have taken more for this, but I wanted to post it). So the first chapters were way more polished than the recent ones have been. If you spot any, or any Britishisms (I know they creep in at times - I'd to delete a pavement someplace!) do let me know.


	24. Injuries

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olli's injured...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There is most definitely hand waving about the injury. There was no indication about what this one was, and even if there was, I'd have had no idea about treatments etc. So i'm being vague and hand-wavey and creating a narrative around it which is not at all medically accurate but serves the story very well! But this does reference a genuine injury that Olli had at this time.

He’s buzzed up to Olli’s apartment and Olli’s at the door to greet him. 

Olli looks terrible. He’s moving stiffly and his face is pale and grey and pinched with pain and there are dark circles under his eyes. Gone is the self-assured, self-possessed Olli that Justin knows. He looks hesitant, unsure and he’s drawn in on himself, looking smaller. Justin realises this isn’t just about any pain he’s in. The possible injury has somehow got to Olli, got into his head. 

Without even thinking about what he’s doing, he’s reaching out, wrapping an arm around Olli gently, pulling him into Justin’s side, careful to put as little weight on him as possible. 

Olli’s tense for a moment, taut against him and then he exhales and relaxes, slumping onto Justin, head coming to rest on his shoulder. Justin’s suddenly aware of the feeling of holding something precious, spun glass, ready to shatter. 

“Hey bud,” he says gently. “Rough night? You’re not looking so good.”

Olli shakes his head where it’s resting on Justin’s shoulder. 

“Feels like I’ve aggravated the damage I did earlier in the year,” Olli mutters. “Maybe when I went down in the third. I don’t know, when doesn’t really matter.”

He sounds despondent. 

“We’ll get you to the trainers and let them have a look at it,” says Justin. “No point in imagining all the things it could be until they’ve seen it and told you what it actually is.” There’s a sigh against his shoulder which suggests his shot in the dark has hit someplace close to the target. Justin tilts his head so he can get a better view of Olli’s face, half-hidden against his shoulder as it is. He’s chewing on his bottom lip, eyes half shut, lashes fanned over his cheeks, just leaning on Justin, hand now resting on Justin’s shoulder. 

“We’ll get through this, whatever it is,” Justin says reassuringly. His hand, unbidden, is rubbing Olli’s shoulder. He stands there, waiting patiently, letting Olli take what comfort he needs, holding him carefully like the precious thing he is, cuddled safely into Justin’s side. Underneath his worry for Olli, he feels heartfull though that it’s him Olli has chosen to trust with this, determined to do whatever he can to help and support, and not let him down again. 

Eventually Olli sighs again. “I know… it’s just… it’s fucking crap.” He moves back away from Justin to be able to look at him properly, straightening up as he moves. He leaves his hand where it is though, curled up behind Justin’s back and gripping his shoulder lightly, so Justin doesn’t move his own where it’s now resting lightly across Olli’s shoulders. He misses the warmth of Olli tucked along his side already though. 

“Sometimes… it feels like nothing goes right for me with injuries. I’m not Sunshine, but just as I manage to get things going better, then wham! Something else benches me. I’m so tired of it now.”

“It’s really crap,” agrees Justin. He’s struggling to know what else to say - it’s not like he can reassure Olli it’s not going to happen, or that his injury might not be serious. They just don’t know and he can’t, he won’t try to give Olli false hope. “But it’s not crap you have to deal with alone. I know I let you down last night, but I won’t do that again.”

Olli shakes his head. “You’re here now, that’s what matters. Last night… the loss. I just wanted to hide too, so I can get it.” He sighs again, drops his hand from Justin’s shoulder. “We need to get going or you’re going to be late for practice.”

Shit! Justin had forgotten entirely, losing sense of time and place in Olli. But he’s not letting Olli get away that easily either. He pulls him back in gently for another one-armed hug. “You are a special person and a great hockey player and no matter what this is, you’ll get through it ok? If I have to come around every day to remind you of that, I will!”

He gets a smile from Olli - it’s small, but it’s the first one he’s seen today - and feels the hug being returned. “I might hold you to that. Now, let me go get my stuff or you will be late and Sully’s going to be pretty intense today anyway… you don’t want to draw his ire.”

Yeah, he is, but somehow, the loss from last night and all it entailed has been washed away with his concerns over Olli. He’s even willing to brave Sully’s wrath for being late for practice to make sure Olli isn’t rushed or bumped or anything happens to him which could give him more pain. 

0--0--0

He skitters into the locker room, having left Olli heading despondently to the trainers. 

“Well there’s one of our little lost lambs,” says Tanger as the door closes behind him. “That only leaves the other. Schultzy, do you know where Olli’s got to?” There’s a smugness to Tanger, a knowing arch to his eyebrows that Justin doesn’t understand and doesn’t trust. 

It seems that their absence had been being discussed in the room, given how everyone appears to be listening in while pretending to be carrying on with what they were doing. But the noise level drops noticeably so he favours them with a glare for being so nosy before dropping onto his bench and starting to kit up. 

“He’s with the trainers getting checked out. Think’s he’s aggravated something from earlier in the season?”

Smiling, teasing Tanger is gone in an instant. “Crisse de calisse!” he exclaims, and he’s only half a beat before a bunch of guys around the room who join in with their own exclamations. Justin notices, unsurprised, it’s the core, the guys who have played with Olli for a while who are most concerned. 

Sid’s over next to Justin in a heartbeat, his face tight and worried. “It’s just from earlier this season though? He’s not worried it’s anything more serious?” 

Justin’s torn. He can’t say that Olli is not worried; not after this morning. But it also feels like it would be betraying him to say anything of what happened. And then again, it’s Sid and he’s the captain.. So he temporises as much as he can. 

“He’s worried but more about what he’s done and how long he could be out. He definitely did say he thought it was related to his injury earlier in the year though.” 

Sid relaxes a little. “Ok. We’ll just have to wait see what the trainers see.” He’s moving back to his stall, but glances over his shoulder, back at Justin “Thanks for telling us.”

The room returns to normal, Justin thankfully losing its attention. Colesy’s almost done and looks to Justin. 

“How did you find out?”

“I drove him in this morning; he wasn’t sure if he was good to drive so he asked me to come pick him up.”

Colesy nods. 

“Why did Sid react like that?” Justin asks. 

“Like what?” Colesy replies. 

“Like it could be something bigger?”

Colesy gives him a look, but leans in, dropping his voice a little. “It’s always a worry that his cancer will come back.”

“Cancer?” Justin looks at him to make sure this isn’t a wind up, but Colesy’s face is deadly serious. But Olli’s so young, he can’t have had cancer - can he? 

Colesy shakes his head. “I thought you knew - look ask again once we head out for Detroit, I’ll tell you then; don’t have time now.”

And Justin is once again, this morning, reminded that really, hockey is meant to be playing a bigger part of his life than he wants it to at this particular moment, when he’d rather be able to spend time on all the things he’s found out. But so many bombshells; in a way, he’s glad just to be able to set them to one side and concentrate on the much simpler task of trying to stop Sid score. 

Because it really isn’t that simple. 

0--0--0

Olli is waiting for them in the locker room at the end of practice, slumped in his stall. One look at him, and Justin realises it’s not good news. 

Olli waits until Sid enters the room, just shakes his head at the questions coming his way. Sid makes his way to his side. His eyes are soft, his face concerned, Tanger following in his wake. 

“What’s the news, Olli?” Sid asks. 

Olli shakes his head. “Not good news. I haven’t re-torn it. But the trainers said it’s over stretched and sprained and could tear again, so I’m out. They think 2-3 weeks, but they’ll have to see how it responds.”

Sid frowns, over the sudden bubble of noise in the locker room, words of support and commiseration to Olli. “That really sucks,” he says. “But you’ll be rested up and back for the playoffs.”

Olli shrugs. “So long as you get us to the playoffs. All on you now!” 

“I promised G we would, so I’ll make the same promise to you. We’re going to make the playoffs. And you and Geno get to sit back, put your feet up and watch as we fight and sweat to make that happen for you, then you get to swan in and claim the glory.”

Olli snorts at that, but his posture has relaxed a bit, his face less clouded and Justin can feel some of the tension slipping out of himself too in response. He hadn’t realised how much looking at a stressed and unhappy Olli had affected him. 

“You’ll be good,” Sid says with assurance to Olli. “But if you aren’t, you’ll tell us, won’t you?”

Olli looks to his feet, seemingly reluctant to meet Sid’s eyes on that one, but he nods nevertheless. 

“We’ll hold you to that” Sid replies to the wordless nod, half teasingly, half warningly, but he seems satisfied now and he’s moving back to his stall to change. 

Justin looks at Olli. “You ok?” he asks. 

Olli shrugs again. “Getting there I think. It’s better knowing what it is and having a timeframe. It is what it is, and there isn’t a lot that I can do to change it now. Just get through it, do what the trainers tell me and rest up a lot while trying to keep conditioning. Sounds simple,” and he pulls a face. 

Justin smiles, but he knows it’s a thin, bitter smile. He starts to strip out of practice gear. 

“Gonna miss you on the road trip,” is what he says. “And look what you are missing out on - a fun filled, exciting and educational trip to Detroit!”

“Didn’t Detroit win our ‘worst place to play’ award from earlier this season?”

“Did you get injured just to avoid having to go to Detroit?”

Olli snorts a laugh. “You’ve caught me. This is all about me not having to go to Detroit.”

“It’s like what Geno said. You’re an evil genius mastermind and we can’t hope to keep up with you.” 

“The sooner you recognise it, the better! World domination will be mine - starting with not having to play in Detroit.” 

“I like how you have your path to world domination mapped out. Achievable goals. Very hockey. What’s step two?” Justin is laughing now as well. 

“Step 2 is win a Stanley Cup. Step 3 is take over the world!”

“Ok, maybe you could do with thinking it through a little more.” 

“Are you saying it won’t work? It seems perfect to me.”

Olli seems perfect to Justin too, but he can’t really say that. Instead he shakes his head at Olli and heads for the showers. 

0--0--0

Olli sees them onto the bus, and then heads out to get a car back to his house. Justin watches him go through the window of the bus, wondering if he’ll be alright, determined to stay in contact during the trip so that he doesn’t get a chance to worry too much. 

“He’ll be good,” says Colesy as he slides into the seat next to Justin. “They’ll look after him and it’s a short trip.” 

Justin makes a noncommittal noise. He doesn’t want to let on to anyone how Olli had been that morning, but from the comments, it does seem like the team knows he takes injuries to heart. And, it is a short trip. They’ll be back late Sunday night - or early Monday morning, depending how you want to look at it. 

“So,” says Justin to change the subject, and because frankly he really wants to know, “You said Olli had had cancer? He’s just a kid!”

“Yeah, he is, but he had it a few months before I arrived in the team,” Colesy replies. “I think they picked it up in the medicals at the start of last season. Tumour on his thyroid; he had it operated on before Christmas. He’s been fine ever since, but it really shocked just about everyone on the team. As you said, he’s just a kid. It was a real scare.”

“He must have been what, 19 or 20?” Justin is horrified. He can’t understand what it would have been like to hear that news at that age. Just making it in the NHL and then suddenly you’re hearing the worst possible news. “But he is ok now?”

Colesy nods. “Yep,” he says. “Gets regular checks of course but they think they got it all - he’s been clear since they operated. Then of course he got the shoulder injury and was out for virtually the rest of the season. Rough year for him.” 

Justin makes a noise of agreement. A shoulder injury which has you injured for most of the year is bad enough - particularly when you’re new to the league and building your game. But to add cancer on top of that and in the full glare of the NHL… Justin can understand better now Olli’s reaction that morning - his frustration and his fear. He can only hope that seeing the trainers has helped, by being told what’s actually injured has removed the uncertainty, allowing Olli to stop worrying so much about what it might be. Just in case, Justin resolves to make sure he checks in with Olli frequently over the next three days. The timing sucks, that Olli should be so upset when the rest of the team is going off on a road trip, even such a short one, so there’s no-one around to help him. Although Geno has also stayed behind, maybe he knows how Olli can get? Justin hopes he does… Sid’s concern was obvious, so Justin hopes Sid has set Geno on Olli in his absence. He doesn’t think anyone could be impervious to Geno’s down to earth humor. 

A nudge makes him jump; Colesy is looking at him. 

“You zoned out there. He’ll be fine, you know that right?” 

“Yeah, I do,” Justin manages to say with conviction. “Not sure he does, but we’ll keep telling it to him until he does.” 

He settles back, watching the scenery go back, monitoring the conversations around him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK so I couldn't hang onto this section without posting for much longer (and also I've cleared a blockage on the next chapter so it's heading towards completion). I'm thinking this could be a marmite chapter. This has been the slowest of slow burns and while we have another small step, it most definitely is a step... and it's either lived up to your expectations or it hasn't! So just a wee bit nervous....


	25. Road trips and missing defencemen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olli goes quiet and Justin gets worried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh yeah, hockey, that's still a thing in this fic...

It’s late when they land back in Pittsburgh, way too late, but the team is contented, not inclined to grumble as much as they might normally do, even though they have another bus journey back to Cranberry to pick up their cars before they can head home. At least at this time there is no traffic. 

Two road trip wins, one of them a blow out and the other another defeat of the Rangers - even if in overtime - lead to a great deal of satisfaction, even at 2 am. So the team is muttering slightly, because the day they stop is they day they are either all dead or have won the Stanley Cup, but really, they don’t have much to complain about. Even Flower is more quiet than sarcastic but he’s probably more tired than usual. They’d given him so little work to do in the first game, he’d started the second also. He’d been gleeful about that, happy to face Lundqvist again, knowing his team was in the ascendent, and they’d proven him right - again. Even if it had taken Sid, Tanger and Phil in overtime to prove it. 

Even tomorrow’s practice is later and optional in recognition of back to back games and a late arrival back in Pittsburgh. But Justin’s determined to go in for it; he’s hoping Olli will come in to see the team, even if he’s not back at practice yet. Justin had religiously messaged him frequently over the weekend, but the replies had got shorter and taken longer to arrive as the weekend progressed. 

That worries Justin. It could be that Olli’s now embarrassed that Justin saw him when he was so low, but he hopes that Olli would know that he doesn’t care about that. It had actually made Justin proud that he was so trusted by Olli, to see him when he was so vulnerable, and that Justin had been able to help him, to comfort him. But perhaps Olli’s gotten into his own head again, into that space which says that hockey players can’t appear to be weak. Despite all the help and support Olli has given Justin when Justin has needed it, perhaps it’s still difficult for Olli to accept it from others, even from someone like Justin. Olli knows so much about Justin’s weaknesses and vulnerabilities. 

Or maybe Justin somehow betrayed how he felt about Olli and it’s left Olli feeling uncomfortable and trying to establish space between them. Perhaps this is deliberate on Olli’s part; he’s sensed that Justin is gay and doesn’t want anything to do with him. He does find that hard to believe, given Olli’s acceptance of Sid and Geno, but it wouldn’t be the first time that a friend of Justin’s has frozen him out when Justin has shown any signs of attraction - or even when they’ve imagined some sign of attraction. Some straight guys just get freaked out by it. He desperately hopes that isn’t true, but, if there is, there’s nothing that Justin can do to influence or alter it. He might regret cuddling Olli, but he looked like he needed it and appreciated it at the time; he’s not going to apologise for reaching out to help a teammate. Yes, Justin’s attracted to Olli, but that had been about comfort, not attraction. Even if he does desperately want it to happen again for other reasons.

It could be that Olli’s just finding the messaging annoying and trying to discourage him or get him to stop. He’s not Colesy in his ability to talk non-stop, but Olli is a lot quieter, maybe he’s just too much and Olli just wants him to shut up. 

There’s also a fourth possibility that Justin’s trying not to think too hard about, that Olli’s not coping with his injury well and is shutting out the outside world. Of all the reasons why Justin can think that Olli could be ignoring him, this one actually scares him the most. He’s never thought he had much of a chance with Olli; having that confirmed would be painful, but not unexpected. But he doesn’t want to find out that Olli is in emotional pain and struggling to cope with his injury, that he’s shutting out people trying to help him. Olli deserves all the help and support he’s so willingly and freely given others. 

So, despite the fact it will mean not a lot of sleep, he diligently sets his alarm so he can make it to practice on time - and even a little bit early, just in case Olli is there. 

0--0--0

Olli’s not at practice. 

Not many are, but Olli didn’t have the late night return to Pittsburgh that the rest are using as a reason not to come. After prowling around the building several times to make sure he just hasn’t overlooked Olli someplace, he manages to cajole from the trainers the information that Olli’s on very light exercise for a week while the injury heals. They don’t seem surprised therefore that Olli didn’t come to practice, given that he wouldn’t be participating and even seem rather relieved that Olli’s taking their instructions so seriously by staying away. Olli isn’t good at following instructions not to work out. 

There is a message from Sid though, asking if it’s ok to postpone their dinner in light of Olli’s injury. In a way, it’s a relief for Justin as if Olli wasn’t there, Justin would only worry about him and he’s not sure how good company he’d be. But it might have also given him the opportunity to raise discretely his concerns about Olli. 

Justin grinds his teeth in frustration. Another message to Olli has yielded no response and he’s got no way of knowing why. He can’t keep messaging him or he’ll sound desperate. But he almost hopes he’s getting brushed off rather than some of the other reasons he can think of as to why Olli’s stopped responding.

He can’t really even go to anyone with his concerns. He might have been able to do it with Sid and Geno socially, but around the rink saying to anyone “Olli isn’t speaking to me” sounds like a complaint straight out of elementary school. For all Justin knows, he’s chatting away to other people on the team and it’s just Justin that he isn’t talking to. Painful as it would be, he hopes that’s the case. 

He keeps turning it over in his head during his post practice workout, but can’t see any other way forward than to let things ride out and see what happens next. There’s nothing he can grab onto that gives him a good excuse to get more proactive in case this is about Olli trying to get more space from Justin. And besides, Olli’s sure to come to the game tomorrow so Justin can see how Olli’s doing then. Hopefully, Justin can see his worrying has been silly and irrational then, that Olli will be his usual contented, confident, funny, smiling self. 

0--0--0

There’s no sign of Olli around the morning skate. He’s not hanging around the locker room before the game starts and despite Justin’s subtle inquiries, no-one has seen him so it’s not just that he’s avoiding Justin; he seems to have cut himself off from the team as well. In the pre-bustle before the game, everyone else seems too concentrated on the game, and Justin knows that it isn’t good he’s distracted by anything. 

By the end of the first, it feels like the whole team was distracted. They weren’t, but that hasn’t stopped the Sabres pulling out to a 3-0 lead, despite the Penguins outshooting them. Sully is forceful about the defensive errors which crept into their game, giving the Sabres the opportunity to go so far ahead. 

It’s a re-invigorated team which heads out for the second; and they get the quick result they were wanting, with a pinching Rev taking a cross-crease pass from Rusty to tap into the empty net behind Johnson. 

As the team settle back onto the bench after the goal celebrations, Colesy looks towards the forwards, smug expression on his face. Justin waits for whatever he is about to say with nervous anticipation. 

“Don’t worry about us, you forwards,” he says loudly. “Us defence will just do our jobs and yours as well! But now we’ve reminded you how to score, perhaps you can take that over again?”

“No, no Colesy, it’s fine!” replies Rev. “Happy to help out wherever I can. Just here to play hard and do whatever the team needs me to do. If that means scoring, just happy to help.” 

“We’re just trying to be generous and not keep all the glory for ourselves,” says Shears instantly. Justin glances along the bench at the forwards; the mongooses are bristling. “If we do all the work, you complain about us being glory hunters; if we share with you then you complain that we’re making you do all the work. We just want you to make up your minds…”

“I don’t care who scores them, if it’s forwards or defence so long as you play the right way and someone gets them,” says Sully from behind them. “We’re still two goals behind in case it had slipped your mind. Colesy; Schultzy, you’re next D. Sid, your line’s next.” 

All of them acknowledge it, and then it’s a matter of waiting until Tanger and Dales come in for a line change; it doesn’t take long, Dales sprinting across the ice waving to Justin to get on. They’re immediately back defending in their own end, and then Justin’s cross ice pass to Sid is intercepted, but eventually they get the puck 

It takes a couple of attempts for them to get it out of their own end, but then Sid is getting it up ice, his line starting to change again, Sid heading to change but caught on ice by a puck passed to him, forcing him to stay on. Shears and Beau jump on, following Sid into the offensive zone, Beau playing give and go with Sid as they take it to the corner. Sid’s knocked down, but carries on playing for the puck, one handed and lying on his back, and the bench is shouting and the rink is shouting and Justin can’t stop to marvel at anyone doing that as he’s on the ice and needs to stay focussed. Beau picks it up, and then Shears jumps in and poaches it away from a Sabres stick and is heading, unremarked and unnoticed until now to the goal where the only Sabre left between it and him is the goalie - but not for long as Shears lifts it past the goalie and into the net, goal horn blazing. Shears is grinning fiercely as Justin skates over to congratulate him, clearly pleased with himself. 

“Happy now?” Shears shouts at Colesy, trying to be heard above the cheers from the crowd.

Colesy nods, patting him on the helmet. “Great job kid!”

The team is buzzing when Justin returns to the bench; from 3-0 down to 3-2 in less than five minutes. It’s a one goal game, and the Pens are starting to fly again. 

They keep at it, but can’t get by Johnson again, Horny bouncing one off the goal post. But Justin’s trying to get the puck out from behind the net when he hears the shrill call of the whistle and glances back. 

Hags is looking smug; the zebra is signalling a Sabre to the box for hooking and they’re heading to the bench for a tv time out. 

At the bench, Tocchet is signalling in the guys for the top PP unit; Sid, Geno, Phil, Tanger and Justin, white board in hands. Justin skates over dutifully, listens to him going over strategies for the PP, before they take to the ice, power play under way. 

Then Justin fucks up. He knows as soon as the pass leaves his stick it’s a bad one, he’s passed to empty ice, no-one there, with a Sabre bearing down on the puck sliding across the ice, unprotected. Fortunately Tanger is able to hustle for it, beat the Sabre before he can get a short-handed chance and start their break out again, but Justin can feel how monumentally stupid that was, skin prickling with fear at the close miss. He battles to put it out of his head, concentrating on the puck and the other Penguins and thankfully finds his rhythm and his focus again, pinching in to shoot on goal, with Phil narrowly missing on the rebound he creates. He heads to the bench after that, letting the second unit out. 

Tocchet at least lets him settle on the bench before he’s saying anything. 

“That pass was crap, I know that,”Justin says, trying to forestall Tocchet as he leans forward to speak to Justin. 

“Yeah, it was,” agrees Tocchet. “Do you know why? You assumed someone would be there without checking. It wouldn’t have been a bad play if someone had been there, but they weren’t. But remember, we want you to play with speed, but we need you to be aware as well out there. Don’t sacrifice puck management for speed. Ok?” 

Justin nods. 

“But good play on your shot,” Tocchet continues. “That was good decision making and you had a good chance for yourself and created another for Phil. You’re getting it kid, but we can always do better.” 

He straightens up, moving away. 

Colesy rolls his eyes. “You’re so their favorite, if that had been me, there would have been a lot more shouting.”

“If you’re playing on the PP you’re right, there would be a lot more shouting,” agrees Justin.

Justin almost misses Colesy’s laughing outrage as it occurs simultaneously with the elbow to his ribs he also gets from Colesy. 

The game continues and although the Pens are hammering on the Sabres, their goalie isn’t yielding. And then Fehr takes a penalty trying to stop a Sabres break out. 

The Sabres struggle to get set up in the zone; and Letang bounces a clearing shot off the board and Cully and Tommy are sprinting off up the ice, puck on Cully’s stick, lone Sabre back trying to defend their 2 on 1 break. Cully looks to shoot - and instead passes to Tommy who slots it neatly into the wide-open space left by Cully’s misdirection. 

The bench are on their feet in an instant, cheering loudly for the game tying, short-handed goal. Tommy’s grin could light up the sky, but he’s thanking Cully for the set up. 

From the following face-off, Hags and Bones get to work harrying the Sabres players, not giving them a chance to get the puck cleanly into the Pens end, Rev safely clearing it back down when they do manage to get the puck in. 

The Sabres goalie comes out to play the puck - only to find Hags bearing down on him with scorching speed, cutting off the netminder’s options, giving him no time to think. In an instant, Hags has poked the puck between the goalie’s legs and is passing to Bones who fires it into the empty net, Johnson watching forlornly from behind it. 

The crowd are cheering and cheering and cheering - two short-handed goals on one power play and the Pens are back in the game, one goal ahead now. The bench is brimming with confidence, but the coaches are quick to remind them that they still have to kill off the penalty. 

However, the Sabres seem too shell-shocked to do anything with the final few seconds that remain. 

Colesy comes onto the bench, sliding into place beside Justin. 

“And that is how you kill penalties,” he says simply. 

“Good job bud!” replies Justin. “Can you not do it like that more often?” 

Colesy, in the act of drinking, squirts the water bottle in his direction in response. 

0--0--0

It’s a bit more grim as Colesy comes back to the bench from killing duty, following the Sabres game-tying goal on the power play at the start of the third. But they tighten down and stop the Sabres getting any more; partly due to some goalie wizardry from Murrs. But they’re also stopped themselves by some goalie wizardry from Johnson and the third period ends with no more goals and the game tied up. 

“You came back from a 3-0 deficit,” says Sully from behind them. “Don’t let them win it now!”

But they can’t get the winning goal in overtime, so it’s down to penalties. There’s a tension along the bench as they realise it’s going to be Murr’s first NHL shootout. 

They needn’t have worried. Murrs stays as calm and focussed through the pressure of a shoot out as he does through a game making stop followed by stop. Meanwhile at the other end, Sid misses, but Tanger executes his penalty perfectly. 

“Do not say a word!” Shears growls at Colesy after Tanger has skated by for fist bumps. Colesy just grins, making an exaggerated zipping up his mouth sign which causes Justin to burst out laughing. 

But it’s Phil who seals the deal, getting in close and then slotting it in behind Johnson to take the two points. 

Pens win again! 

As Justin jumps over the boards to go congratulate Murrs, he reflects that it’s easier to live with fuck ups when they don’t affect the game outcome. And when they win. And when he doesn’t feel the coaches are helping him with perspective. And when he remembers that he can’t be perfect as a hockey player, but he can keep trying to be.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> ok... so I did cut out the absolutely luscious game against the Wings, where Bones and Phil both got 5 points and the Pens just took apart the Wings in a way we can only dream of at the moment. But it was time to move the story on a little.... 
> 
> And Olli's hand and Justin's head! =( I can only hope they're sat at home, cuddling and feeding each other ice cream and marzipan chocolate cakes*
> 
> (*this is a surprisingly precise fantasy which you may or may not find out the background on).
> 
> Between this chapter and the last one, the fic went through 10000 views and 250 subscriptions... that's pretty damn amazing. Thank you all so much!


	26. Beware of goalies bearing gifts...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Flower's up to something....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is pretty short, but I think the next chapter could get pretty long, so decided to cut it here I'm afraid. More of a snippet than a chapter but.... reasons!

Once out the game, Justin’s worries about Olli return full-force. But seeing Duper in the locker room gives him an idea; Duper knows Olli and is also unofficial team dad. 

“Hey Duper do you have a moment?”

Duper turns from where he’s been joking with Tanger. 

“Sure Schultzy, what can I do for you?” he replies. 

Justin draws him away from the crowd around the locker room; Duper follows without a word, but as they settle into a corner of the player’s lounge, his eyebrows are raised. 

“Seems serious,” he remarks, questioningly. 

“I didn’t want anyone else to hear,” replies Justin. “I’m maybe seeing too much here but…. “

Justin launches into his concerns. Not all of them of course; he doesn’t breathe a word about his worries about Olli rejecting him because he’s become aware of how Justin feels. That’s Olli’s choice and not Duper’s business. Nor does he say anything about how upset Olli had been when he’d gone around - he wants to, but it feels too much like a betrayal of confidence. But he can talk about how Olli has been getting quieter and quieter and about his not showing over the past couple of days and Justin’s own concerns about that. 

He probably still says more than he should. As before, Duper is a very good listener, encouraging Justin to open up more. 

He nods at the end, when Justin is drawing to a close. 

“Look, I’m glad you told someone about this,” Duper says. “I think you’ve done the right thing… Olli… well Olli… you’re right, he can be not very good at handling injuries. It’s not really a big surprise given what he’s gone through already, but we’d hoped he was learning ways to cope with it better. So if he’s struggling with this one - and it sounds like he is - then yeah, we need to know about it so we can do something about it. So leave it with me and I’ll have a think about what can be done.”

He settles back a little in his chair, sipping his coffee. “How are you doing by the way? Haven’t had much of a chance to catch up since that lunch.” He looks at Justin from under his brows. “And don’t just say ‘good’ or ‘fine’ unless you mean it. I’m interested in hearing how you are doing, not what you think you should tell me.” 

Justin laughs. He had actually been about to say ‘good’ - come on, they’d just won a hockey match. But he stops and thinks before he answers, knowing Duper is expecting nothing less. 

“Better,” he says consideringly. “I’m finding my feet here, I’m playing better and you and the guys have all helped me work out what was going on in Edmonton. It’s the little things you know - and not just the playing on a real contender and winning so much - although that is awesome.” He grins in pleasure at the feeling, a grin echoed by Duper. “But even you know, looking forward to going into practice again, not worrying all the time about how I’m going to mess up. Even just how much fun it is to socialise with the team. It just all feels better than it was in Edmonton - it’s been quite a change, but it’s been a good change.”

Duper laughs. “I heard from Tanger about the pool match! He’s determined to get his revenge.”

Justin grimaces. “He’ll probably do it,” he replies. “I had a lot of luck that game.”

“He doesn’t need to hear you admit that though,” replies Duper with a shrug. 

“You too, Duper? I thought he was your friend!”

“I’m saying this as his friend. Sometimes you have to be cruel to be kind. It’s good for him not to have victory come easily.” There’s a twinkle in his eye as he says it.

Justin shakes his head, grinning. “If you say so.”

“I do. But that’s enough about pool and Tanger. We really should do lunch again soon.” 

Justin’s surprised at the relief he feels, that the first lunch wasn't a one off. It’s taken him a while to realise, but he’s come to value the support he’s had from Duper and also from Phil and Hags and Dales. They’ve all helped him understand some of what happened in Edmonton and helped him recover and move on from it. That’s been a precious gift that he has not expected. So he’ll accept the gift and be thankful for it. 

“That would be great,” he replies and he's sorting out a time and a place with Duper before he knows it. Then, finally it's time to go home and rest and recover from the game. 

0--0--0

Still no Olli at practice the next day. Still no answer to Justin's messages. He's almost at the point of calling, but stops himself, waiting to see what Duper says. But Duper isn't around either. 

He’s just about to shuck on his jacket and head out the changing room when he becomes aware of Flower calling his name across the room. From the look of amusement on Flower’s face, this isn't his first attempt at attracting Justin’s attention. 

Justin blushes, but refuses to acknowledge how little attention he was paying or indeed give any satisfaction at all to Flower. But he does at least walk over to see what Flower wants.

Flower is trying to look serious, which is always a cause for concern. After only about four weeks on the team, Justin has still learned that that particular expression is one to be suspicious of. Flower’s up to something. 

“Hey Schultzy, now I have your attention, can you do me a favor?” He sees the look on Justin’s face and continues on without giving him a chance to answer. “Vero’s made some treats she wanted me to take over to Olli, but now there’s a problem and I need to go collect her and Estelle and Scarlett. I was wondering if you could take Vero’s treats over to Olli instead of me? Despite the fact that she’s asked me to get them, she’ll still kill me if I don’t get them delivered.”

Justin takes a moment to consider that - it doesn’t seem so bad, so there has to be a catch. 

“What are the treats?” he replies suspiciously. 

“Just some cookies and stuff that Vero made for Olli - she knows he has a really sweet tooth, but they’re healthier than the shop bought junk,” Flower answers. He’s looking innocent which really isn’t helping Justin as Flower is never innocent, but he can’t see the sting here. 

“Does Olli know about this?”

“Yeah, she messaged him last night to say I’d be bringing them around today. Look, you’d really be helping us out, I’ve got them in my car but I just can’t pick them up on time and get the food to Olli as well. And you know where Olli stays. I mean, I can ask someone else if you had other plans today?”

“No, it’s fine, I’ll do it.” The words are out before Justin has really thought about it, almost tripping over each other, spurred on by losing the excuse to go see how Olli is for himself. Afterall, he has been trying to think of a plausible reason, and Flower has just handed it to him on a plate. Even though there’s almost certainly an ulterior motive that will come back to bite him, it fits in too neatly with what Justin himself wants. Also Olli is unlikely to turn him away if he comes bearing cakes. 

Flower grins hugely, smugly, well satisfied at Justin’s response, which just causes the hackles on the back of Justin’s neck to rise up even more, but he just can’t see where the rug is going to be pulled from under his feet. So he’s going to have to ride along with it just now, and hope it isn’t too painful at the end. 

“I'll go wait in the lounge - come find me when you're done changing,” Justin says. Flower nods so Justin heads out to the lounge to go find a post practice smoothie while he waits. 

It doesn't take too long for Flower to finish changing. Less time than Justin would have thought given the extra kit goalies have but he supposes that Flower’s had a lot of practice over the years. 

It's even less time for Flower to pull the 4 boxes from the back of his SUV and hand them off to Justin. Each is neatly labelled with both a count and a name. 

Flower catches him looking at the labels. 

“Vero insists she needs to put a count on them so I can't steal any. As if I would do that!” 

Justin snorts at that. It's quite clear that Vero knows her husband very well and from the look on Flower’s face, he has done exactly that. 

“I’m saying nothing, I’m just the delivery boy!” Justin replies. And then a thought strikes him. “Although if any of them go missing I guess that Vero and Olli would blame you?” 

Flower opens his eyes wide at that, looking shocked. “Schultzy, you wouldn’t do that to a teammate! That would be heinous, underhand, treacherous! I asked for your help in helping an injured teammate and this is how you behave!”

“I’ll deliver them all,” Justin replies, turning to walk back to his car. Then, just as he’s out of reach, he shouts back over his shoulder to Flower “Probably!”

There’s a howl of outrage from behind him which just makes him laugh.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just want trade day to be over to know what's going on..... at least Olli's unlikely to be traded while injured (I hope).


	27. Hopes and fears

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin takes the cooking round to Olli which gives him the chance to see if Olli is ok...

The boxes are stowed carefully in the trunk, and he’s driving out of UPMC when he suddenly realises how nervous he is. He was actually, for a moment, considering going home to change before he realised that although he might want to dress up a bit for Olli, it’s not going to change whatever happens. 

It seems both no time at all and an age before he’s parking outside Olli’s apartment. He’s aware of the tension and nerves building and building until he feels like he’s strung tight - he just doesn’t know what to expect when he sees Olli again. It feels like so many of his hopes and fears are riding on this. He’s trying to stay positive, to think that if this has been about mismatched expectations that he’ll be ok, that he can move on from this but he’s too aware by his reaction of how far Olli has got under his skin and how much losing that, of losing any hope of that, is going to hurt. 

He sits in the car a moment longer and then forces himself to move, collecting the boxes and stacking them carefully in his arms. 

Surprisingly, he’s buzzed straight up to Olli’s apartment; he supposes Olli was expecting him and he waits as the elevator carries him up to Olli’s floor, mouth dry, not sure what he’s going to say now the moment has come. 

But from the look of surprise on Olli’s face, Olli wasn’t expecting him at all. And to Justin, it doesn’t look like ‘surprised in a good way’ either. He takes a deep breath, summons a friendly grin. 

“Hey Olli, how are you doing? Flower asked me to drop these off for you - something came up at home and he had to go collect his family.” He gestures with his chin to the boxes in his arms. “Can I bring them in? How are you doing anyway?” 

He’s running his eyes over Olli as he says this. He looks pale; he looks tired. He doesn’t look good at all. His hair’s a mess and he’s dressed in faded pyjamas that have some kind of white hippo thing on them. But still Justin can’t stop staring at him, because it’s Olli. 

Olli shrugs, turns back inside waving Justin to follow him. “Ok, I guess. Trainers seem to be happy enough.”

He leads Justin to the kitchen, lets Justin put the boxes down on a worktop. Olli tries to smile, but it’s a shadow of his former smile, the dimples don’t appear, the smile doesn’t reach his eyes. 

“Thanks for bringing them around, and tell Flower to thank Vero for me. She really didn’t need to, I’m doing ok here by myself.”

Justin mentally raises an eyebrow at that, at how uncared for Olli looks, at the used dishes piled around the worktops, the general clutter. It may just be how Olli lives, but having seen him around the locker room, Justin thinks they’re all little signs that things maybe aren’t ok. 

“For sure, I guess they were just worried; no-one’s really heard much from you recently. We just wanted to make sure you were doing ok.” 

“Yeah, I guess,” says Olli vaguely. “But thanks for coming around. I’m sure you had a lot of other, better things to be doing than babysitting me.” He won’t meet Justin’s eyes, looking at his feet as he says it. There’s something itching in the back of Justin’s head at what Olli’s just said, like it’s important, but he doesn’t know how. 

To hide his unease, he grins. “Nothing better to do today,” he says resolutely. “And it’s not babysitting, it’s checking that a guy I consider a good friend is doing ok and doesn’t need anything.”

“I’m good, Schultzy, if I needed anything I’d have told you.”

“Really?” says Justin skeptically. For all Olli has been good at encouraging Justin to talk since he arrived, Justin has the feeling that Olli’s not good at asking for help. Olli flushes in response but doesn’t try to argue. “Besides,” Justin continues, trying to sound reasonable, “You’d be doing the same for me if the situations were reversed. Look I’m sorry if I’ve been coming on too strong; I have been worried about you though. It was a shitty thing to happen at a shitty time. But if you’re genuinely ok and I’m over-reacting, I’m sorry if I’ve been pushing too hard. I’ll back off and leave you alone.”

He feels miserable saying it, looking to Olli for any sign that that’s what Olli wants, hoping that it’s not. Instead Olli looks away, not meeting his eyes again. 

“I’m ok,” says Olli quietly. “I’m doing fine.”

Justin’s breath catches in his throat at the quiet words. Such little words for such a huge implication, for how they destroy Justin’s hopes, make him feel like his world is crashing around his ears. It’s not just the loss of his potential hopes for Olli, it’s the loss of Olli as friend too, the quietly supportive friendship, that feeling of having someone around him he can spend time with, that he wants to spend time with and just have it feel so natural. He’d felt the missing presence on the last road trip, cut off and back to floundering like he was new to the team all over again, trying to find his balance. 

He feels stupid and dumb for misreading the situation so badly, shame for having been pushing at a friendship - and possibly something more - that has been unwanted, forced Olli to have to demonstrate that it’s been a one-sided thing since he arrived. 

All he wants to do is get out of here as quickly as possible now, get away to lick his wounds, mourn the loss. He’s come what he came to do; Olli is ok and he has been avoiding Justin because Justin… well what is there about Justin to like? His shoulders slump a bit at that poisonous, bitter thought, but right now, he’s empty and has nothing to push it away with. 

“Ok then,” he says, surprised he can even still form words. “I’ll just… go,” and he gestures back in the direction of the front door. There’s so much he wants to say; so much he can’t or won’t. “Sorry,” is what he manages, trying not to sound too broken, turning away so that Olli can’t see the tears starting to burn in his eyes. 

It’s as he’s turning, eyes seeking out superfluous details as distraction, that he registers the tablet cast aside on the bench, screen alight and showing it’s on one of the more vicious Penguins blogs. 

**IS THERE ANY VALUE LEFT IN BUST MAATTA TO EVEN TRADE?** screams the headline on the article. 

His pain, his hurt, his shame is swept away by a wave of fierce, cleansing anger that anyone should pose such a ludicrous question. It’s followed hard by the sickening realisation that Olli himself must have been reading it to have left the website on that page. 

It’s like the anger is causing his brain to make connections and join things together he’s not seen before, fuelled by the adrenalin the anger has caused to buzz through his system. He walks over and snatches up the tablet.

“Olli, you’re not reading this garbage!” 

Olli looks over to him and sees what he’s holding. He makes a move towards the tablet, but then halts, jerking to a stop. 

“Tell me you aren’t reading this Olli; tell me this isn’t about you believing this fucking garbage? That you don’t believe you are good enough for me to waste my time on; that you don’t believe you are deserving of the team’s worry?” 

Olli’s white-faced now, staring at the floor. But he’s making no move to deny it, to say this isn’t what’s behind it all. Justin notices that his left hand is clenched tightly into a fist at his side, tucked in against his leg, skin pulled tight and taut across his knuckles so they’re white through the skin, like he’s hanging on grimly to something. The sight of how much control Olli is trying to keep drains Justin’s anger from him. 

“Oh fuck, Olli,” Justin says gently, sighing. He ducks his head for a moment, trying to think, knowing he has to say the right thing here and worried he won’t. “You are such a good hockey player, such a great person. Look at the way you’ve helped me out over and over since I arrived here; you didn’t need to, but you’ve done so much to help me.” He's looking to Olli now, fearful of saying something wrong. But neither is he going to give up because he's scared and worried. “And for fuck’s sake Olli you’re 22 and have been playing in the NHL since you were drafted because you earned your place. You know how rare that is for defence? No-one who does that is a bad player And you're still growing as a player too.”

“I don't feel like I'm still growing,” the words burst out of Olli bitterly. “I know what they say about me, how I'm slow and can't score and just haven’t developed the promise I had.” 

Justin feels like he's on slightly stronger ground now. At least Olli is now talking and he's not having to guess what is wrong. 

“They say lots of crappy things about Sid too but that doesn't make what they say right or believable. Olli, the people saying those things don't know enough about hockey; there is a lot more to your game than they can ever see. They’ll be the same people criticising Tanger for pinching in and going on the offence as well. ‘He should stay on the blue line and stop acting like a forward!’”

He's watching Olli closely to see how this is going down. His face has become a little less pinched at the mention of Sid and relaxed more at what Justin said about Tanger. 

“Stuff like that is written to be controversial so the guys writing it feel like they know something. But the team has faith in you - they know you, know your game and look at the extension you agreed. They won't give that to someone they consider a bust!” He waves the tablet again before putting it down. At least Olli is listening to him, his face a mixture of vulnerability and something else that Justin hesitates to call hope.. 

“Olli, I’ve also watched you play since I got here, and you’re a fantastic d-man, the kind of d-man I can only dream of playing like. I don’t know if you value my opinion over the opinion of random people you’ve never met who post on the internet - I’d hope so, but I am a fuck up from Edmonton after all so I’d understand if you didn’t,” and he risks a grin, trying to lighten the intensity slightly, but surprised when Olli shakes his head fervently, his lips shaping the word ‘no!’ at Justin description of himself. He ploughs on regardless, he has a point and he needs to make it. 

“You’re a great d-man and look at where you are for the age you are. Your possibilities are endless. You’ve had a harder road than many over the past few years and it says so much for you that you’re still standing and still playing and have been keeping going. And as a very wise person once said to me when I was struggling to hear something over my own negative view of myself, I’m going to keep telling you this until you believe it. You are just too good of a person to be so down on yourself.”

By the end of that, Olli is faintly blushing. He’s obviously recognised Justin quoting his own words back at him. And his eyes - he looks so much like he wants to believe. But he shakes his head regretfully. 

“I would like to be the person you think I am. He sounds a great person; I can see why you want to be his friend.”

Justin growls. He didn't know he could actually make that noise until now. It's a noise of rejection of what Olli has just said, it's a noise of frustration. 

“Who I see is who you are. You're funny, you're kind, you’re smart, you're wise beyond your years, you’re patient, you care about others, you make me laugh with your observations but you are never nasty, you’ve made me open up more to you than to anyone else because I trust you and I trust what you’ll say to me, you’ve gone through a hell of a lot and you're still amazing, you’re hot and sexy and I hate that someone I care for so much, like so much, sees himself of such low worth,” he says passionately. 

And then his jaw closes with a snap as his brain realises where his errant mouth has taken him too. Fuck. He's here trying to support Olli and the last thing Olli needs is for Justin to be putting him under pressure by sharing his unwanted feelings.

The silence seems very loud. Justin opens his mouth to start apologising but stops when he sees the soft smile on Olli’s face.

“You think I'm hot? You like me?” Olli questions. 

Justin is so surprised he laughs. “That's what you take from that?” he teases. He's still nervous about Olli’s response but Olli doesn't look like someone who is upset by what Justin has just admitted. “Yes, I do. I'm sorry if I'm making things uncomfortable by telling you, I didn't mean to….” He trails off. 

“You're not making things uncomfortable,” replies Olli. Olli’s smile is still a little tremulous but it's genuine and warm and hopeful and his dimples are back. Justin wants to keep him looking like that forever and wants to kiss the look right off his face all at the same time. “In fact I’m kinda glad you feel like that as I think you’re hot too and I like you a lot. I kinda want to kiss you right now.”

Justin feels warmth flooding through him - excitement and joy and happiness and relief merging together in a giant burst of emotion. It’s such a contrast to the worry and anxiety which has plagued him over the last few day that he feels almost light-headed with it - but not so light headed that he ignores what Olli’s final words are because kissing is a thing that needs to happen and preferably quickly. 

“Yeah I'd like that too.” He grins, aware he can feel the heat rising in his face but he starts to move towards Olli only to find Olli is doing the same to him. He’s directly in front of Olli and Olli’s in front of him and his mouth has gone dry because this is really happening. 

Olli likes him and that thought is singing through him over and over and over again.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok sorry, just a mini cliffhanger. But of the good kind I hope... 
> 
> Nervous about this one. It's a bit 'finally!' though as well. 
> 
> Shout out to anyone who recognised what are on Olli's pyjamas... I just couldn't resist that once I saw the mental image. Of course he has Moomin pyjamas which are his comfort blanket pair. 
> 
> And please can we just wrap the Pens up in bubble wrap and play the Baby Pens for the rest of the season? All the injuries :(
> 
> (Meant to say I don't have any Pens blog particularly in mind for that fictitious article.. )


	28. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Awwwwwwwww!*
> 
>  
> 
> (*it's the best I can do - I've been travelling for 14 hours so far and my brain is now a little bit fried).

Their first kiss is tentative, Olli’s lips are soft and warm on his own but he quickly becomes lost in the taste of Olli, the smell of Olli, the feel of Olli's lips sliding over his own. What starts gentle becomes intense, tongues meeting, hands wandering. Justin feels Olli’s hands slide onto his ass and he pushes back into them but he also can't help but smile because hockey players and assess are such a cliche. But then Justin’s own hands are resting on Olli’s shoulders, feeling the muscles under them so he's not any less cliched. 

Olli breaks away. “Why are you smiling?” He asks a little suspiciously. Justin’s grin broadens. 

“In between thinking about how good this is and how I want to do it lots more.. c’mere” and he leans in and steals another quick kiss, “I’m also enjoying hockey player cliche and how happy I am to have your hands on my ass.” 

“It's a nice ass and l’ve been wanting to have my hands on it for a while.” Olli’s face is perfectly serious but there’s the ghost of a smile on his lips so that Justin has to kiss them again, still smiling through the kiss, especially when he feels Olli start to massage his ass. But it also feels good, so good and his breath hitches a little as he pushes back into Olli’s hands. 

He can feel his cock starting to take an interest. Slowly, because it's only recently he’s found anything arousing but the novelty of feeling anything arousing after Edmonton, let along having the luxury of feeling it while Olli is in his arms, kissing back just as fervently leaves him almost light-headed with relief. So much though that he almost staggers and Olli has to stabilise him. 

“I knew I was a good kisser but didn't know I was good enough to sweep you off your feet,” Olli's grin is a touch smug. “If I'm that dangerous we’d better sit down before you fall down.”

Justin makes a noise of protest but otherwise allows Olli to draw him over to the couch, with Olli settling beside him a little stiffly. But Justin is distracted from that thought by Olli leaning in and resuming where they left off. 

It's good, so good. That he's here, now kissing Olli is something he never thought would happen and he's just basking in the feelings. Olli is as generous and unselfish at kissing as he is at everything else in life and yeah, Justin would agree he’s pretty good at it. His head is swimming slightly when they break apart although he's sure that's down to the breathlessness of kissing so long and intently as well as the pleasure and enjoyment and, yeah, want going through his body. 

“You’re right,” he says contemplatively. 

“How?” 

“You are a good kisser,” Justin replies. The simple praise makes Olli's face light up, blushing slightly. 

“You’re pretty good yourself, he says back. 

Justin wrinkles his nose. “Only pretty good? Guess I need more practice then to match you!” 

Olli laughs at that but just as he's leaning in again the moment is broken by a sound from Justin's stomach. Olli looks stricken when he hears it. 

“Oh god, you came straight from practice you must be starving! Let me get you something to eat.”

Justin would really rather they kept kissing but as Olli moves away he does realise he's pretty hungry now. In fact, very hungry. He follows Olli to the kitchen, leaning on the worktop as Olli surveys the refrigerator ruefully. 

“I don't really have much in,” he admits. 

“What have you been eating, Olli?” Justin has to admit that he is suspicious. 

“I haven’t been that hungry - don’t look at me like that, I haven’t been doing so much exercise!” Olli says defensively. “I’ve been getting take out when I am hungry. Seemed less hassle than cooking.” 

He’s pretty sure Olli’s drawing a veil over the fact he hasn’t been eating properly, but it’s happened and there’s nothing he can do about the past. He can be there to make sure it doesn’t keep happening though. Because clearly, for all Olli's apparent self-sufficiency, he needs someone to look after him at times. 

“We could go out to get something, or I could order in,” Olli continues. “But if we order in then we have time to talk as we wait and I think we need to do that so we know what’s going on.” 

Justin considers. Talking isn't a bad idea and if they get that over with then there might even be more time to make out. That's kind of the clincher - if they go out there will be way less opportunity for kissing and it’s too new, too shiny, too novel to give up on easily. So he agrees to take out, and it’s not long before Olli is calling in their order. 

Once Olli is done, Justin looks at him. Well, he hasn't stopped watching him, aware he is allowed to now without being creepy but he's bracing himself a bit. 

“You said you wanted to talk?” Justin asks. He’d be lying if he said he wasn't a little nervous about that. 

“I did, I do,” says Olli. Strangely he looks as nervous as Justin feels. “It's… well the team. We play together and so nothing we do can affect that. Especially not now with the play-offs so close.” 

Justin's almost completely sure that this talk is still a good thing, but there’s a small nagging doubt been raised as Olli could be about to cool everything off for the sake of the team. That's what it sounds like after all. But he’ll wait and see where it's going, even as his anxiety starts building at the realisation of what Olli's just said could mean.

Olli carries on, seemingly unaware of Justin’s concerns. “So I wanted to make sure we were on the same page. I've had bad experiences with misunderstandings so I wanted to talk with you about this… about us” and he gestures between them, “so that we knew where we stand. Hopefully whatever happens then it won't hurt the team.”

“You see an us then?” Justin asks. It sounds like he does but he wants to make sure. 

“For sure,” Olli replies. “I don't go around kissing just anyone for fun.” And then he claps his hand over his mouth and goes scarlet as he realises what he just said. 

Justin has to laugh at his dismay. “Well I hope you find kissing me fun and that's why you want to do it. I wouldn't want you to do something you didn't want to do!” 

“I want to kiss you for fun!” Olli exclaims quickly. “That's not what I meant at all, it is fun kissing you, I just meant…” 

Justin interrupts. “It’s ok, I get it,” he says reassuringly. “But I needed to check. It almost sounded,” he swallows but this is Olli and he can trust Olli, “like you were regretting this already.”

Olli's eyes fly open at that. “What? No way! No. I'm sorry it sounded like that.. I never thought. No, I want to be with you but I think we need to agree what that means. But you do want to be with me?”

His face is vulnerable as he asks. Justin knows how he himself feels, but his heart is singing at Olli's confirmation that he does want to be with Justin. 

“Oh fuck yeah Olli. I've been attracted to you since I got here and you helped me get my clothes back! But I didn't know you liked guys and I'm a rental fuck-up from Edmonton so what would you see in a guy like me?” He shrugs. “That's one thing we’ve got to remember - we don't know how or when the season ends or where I end up after. You’ll be in Finland, I’ll be in BC and next year I could be anywhere. Even Europe if it goes really badly.“

“You are not a fuck up. You were fucked over. If you keep calling yourself a fuck up I will bite you,” Olli is vehement but his smile is still blinding in response to what Justin has just said. But Justin is caught by the image of Olli biting him, of licking him and suddenly the room seems a little warmer, a little closer, a little less air in the room, Olli a bigger presence in it. 

“Promise?” Justin sounds unexpectedly husky as he replies, mouth suddenly dry, watches Olli's eye darken and his smile change at the tone, less innocent, more intense. 

“Yeah, if you want,” Olli replies. He’s staring at Justin, like really focussed on him. 

“I want,” Justin assures him. 

“Me too.” Olli starts to move toward him, intent in every movement, when the buzzer sounds. He stops and laughs ruefully. 

“Great timing. That'll be lunch. I'll go let them in. Plates are in the cupboard above the sink.” 

Justin does as directed. It's probably a good thing the food has come before they’d got too far, but he does regret it. Then Olli's back in the room, arms full of delicious smelling food and his stomach is insisting that it takes precedence now.

They settle down to eat, Justin piling some extra spoonfuls on Olli's plate when he only takes a little. Olli looks at him but doesn't protest. 

“We’ll be working it off later!” Justin says smugly. He earns an arch of Olli's brows. 

“You're so sure I'm that easy for you!” He shakes his head sadly. 

“Aren't you?” Justin replies. 

“Ok, yes, I am,” Olli admits. Justin smiles at that. “But about what I was saying earlier…” 

Justin stops himself from groaning and head-thunking the table. He should remember that Olli is determined and stubborn. 

“Olli,’ he replies, “We’re not going to do anything to jeopardise the team. We don't know where this is going but we have to agree to do our best to keep it off the ice and out the locker room. Who knows where I'll be next year? But I want to give it a try. I've been told you live day to day in the playoffs… let’s treat it like that. No long term plans, let’s just try it and see where we get to.”

It’s not until Olli relaxes that Justin realises he had still been carrying tension through his frame. He smiles at Justin. 

“I’d like to try that too. I like you more than just something casual but it's such a weird time. And who knows what happens with playoff stresses as well? So no long term plans and let's just take it day by day. It is what it is. We’re together for now.”

Justin feels another burst of happiness at hearing Olli wants something more than friends with benefits - he'd have done it, however unwise it might have been, just so that he would be with Olli - but he had wanted something more. He grins shyly at Olli across the bench - fuck, they’re actually really doing this and Olli grins back at him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I didn't think I'd get this out so soon, but it's amazing how sitting on a plane for hours and hours really concentrates the mind! 
> 
> Going to watch the Pens-Isles and Pens-Flyers games this weekend and absolutely bursting with excitement. 
> 
> Apologies, it's another short one, but it was the best place to stop, given the next one is just pretty much smut with a smidgeon of plot. But Olli just has to be all adult and grown up about it.


	29. A little light physical therapy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter may contain orgasms. Don't say I didn't warn you.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So... note the change in rating and tags, we're up to explicit, there be smut ahead. Pretty much all this chapter and a lot of the next one too. If it's not your thing, feel free to skip there's nothing so important in there plot wise that you won't be able to pick up further along.

Of course, after that it’s inevitable that they end up back on the couch making out and this time with the luxury of time so that Justin can start to get to know Olli’s body, more than just his mouth anyway. He learns how Olli responds when he licks and nibbles at his earlobe, just so, how he starts when brushes his lips across his nipples and how his nipples come up hard and pebbled, just begging for more attention and how they are really irresistible and the noises Olli makes as he licks them, sucking and tonguing one, while playing with the other, now gentle brushes, now harder pressure. Olli is moving restlessly under the attention, one hand carding through Justin’s hair, the other grasping at the couch cushions in a way Justin doesn’t even think Olli’s aware of, likes he needs the feeling of holding onto something. At that realisation, Justin grins ferally and goes back, with extra enthusiasm, to seeing just how hard Olli’s nipples can get, the delicate pink becoming a deeper and deeper rose against Olli’s pale, pale skin. 

“Do you want me to go lower?” he says, licking downwards, down Olli’s sternum towards his pale, almost invisible happy trail, so there’s no misunderstanding about his intentions. He wants to do to Olli’s cock what he’s just been doing to his nipples, see how Olli reacts, what noises he make, what he looks like when he comes, what he tastes like. 

Olli looks at him a moment, eyes a bit unfocused and dark and blown with pleasure, lips reddened from their kissing and Justin looks at him and knows he’s done that to Olli and he’s so turned on by that thought. He slips one hand down to brush across the front of his own jeans, just putting a bit of delicious pressure on his own hardening cock, to take the tremor it sends through him as he looks at Olli, half-undressed before him. 

“Yeah, fuck, Justin I do,” says Olli breathlessly, but he stretches forward to where Justin’s hand is, “but let me…”

It’s as he’s stretching though that he gasps, but not in a good way, his hand falling away and his other hand curling around his midriff protectively. 

“What is it? What happened?” Justin’s instantly concerned, moving off him, moving to support him instead. 

“It’s the fucking muscle… sorry I didn’t think and overstretched, it’s ok, it will pass in a moment, it’s probably just a spasm.” Olli’s still a little breathless but not for good reasons this time and his face is looking a little white and pinched. He’s rubbing at the area, almost scrubbing at it. 

“Hey, hey, gently,” Justin says reassuringly. He’s hesitant to do anything in case it makes things worse, but he can’t help gently rubbing along the top of Olli’s shoulder. “It’ll pass. Relax and breathe.”

Olli snorts, painfully. “I didn’t think we’d got to that point yet!” 

Justin has to laugh because well yeah, but he’s still worried. “I’m not sure we should until you’re better again though. What if we do more damage?”

“We won’t if we’re careful!” 

“Maybe we should check with a trainer?” 

Olli starts to laugh. “I’d love to see you do that. ‘Hey Chris, Olli and me are wanting to get down and dirty, can you advise on positions we can use that won’t aggravate or put stress on his injury?’” He says through his laughter. “I’d love to see his face.”

Justin’s blushing but he’s laughing also. “Ok, stupid idea. Bet he’d try and help though!”

“Yeah, we’re going to have to do without his help though because I’m not asking him except as a last resort.” says Olli. “And I’m not waiting anymore. Not now we have this and I’m allowed to think about this and you had.. you have me so turned on. I’d love you to finish what you started.” He looks up at Justin from under his lashes. “That’s if you have no objection?”

At Olli’s words, the mood deepens again, becomes more intense. 

“Absolutely no objection from me.” replies Justin intently. There's so much he wants to do to Olli, do with Olli that his mind is buzzing at being allowed to do any of it. He almost can't decide where to start, but actually, he really knows what he wants to do - still. “Fuck, babe, I want to finish undressing you, and then lick and suck on your cock until you’re squirming and hard and aching. And I’ll keep on going, sucking until you come because I want to feel you coming apart with my mouth on you, knowing I’ve done that to you.”

Olli’s pupils are huge and his skin is tinged a rosy pink. “Mnrggh,” he says incoherently nodding vigorously. “Mmm yes, that, yes.”

Justin has to kiss him then and Olli returns it enthusiastically. They last a while longer, mainly kissing - well, maybe, their hands stray a little. 

“Bed,” says Justin a little breathlessly. “We need to take this to your bed. Less chance of hurting you there.”

Olli hums in agreement, and somehow, they manage to get to their feet. The progress along the hall is slow - they keep stopping to kiss more, and somehow Justin loses both his shirt and his pants - pulling off his shoes with exasperation as he can’t get the pants off with them still on and it’s all taking too long to get his pants off when he should be touching Olli. 

But finally they’re in Olli’s room and Justin’s pushing him - gently - down onto the bed. 

“Let me do this..” he says, pulling at Olli’s ridiculous hippo pants, and Olli’s nodding enthusiastic agreement, letting Justin pull them off slowly. Olli’s commando under them and the sight brings a groan from Justin as his cock is freed, already hard and leaking. It’s long and slender, like Olli, but is flushed a darker red and Justin just wants to taste it so much. He licks his lips at the sight, hearing an answering groan from Olli and leans forward but surprisingly Olli pushes at him… Justin pulls back, not sure why Olli’s stopping him, but he’s waving at Justin’s boxer briefs. 

“Off! You too!” he commands and Justin smirks, realising that Olli’s having difficulty forming sentences right now, but he obeys quickly, finally letting his own cock escape. The loss of pressure and friction is both good and bad and he rubs at his own cock before settling down onto the bed, pulling Olli’s legs further apart, feeling Olli moving them easily at his prompting, putting him more on display and giving Justin more space to work in. Olli is pliant beneath him, so Justin has to kiss him again, and now there’s nothing between them but skin and it’s so different from kissing when they were clothed, skin sliding on skin, arcs of pleasure, of sensation occurring wherever they touch. 

Justin has always enjoyed the fact they match in heights, but now, lying over Olli, he appreciates it even more, mouth meeting mouth, and cock rubbing on cock and he arches into Olli, rolling through his hips because it feels so good, delicious friction sparking through him. And then realises Olli is trying to push up and he shouldn’t be doing that in case he gets hurt so Justin moves to pin Olli’s hips to the bed… rubbing his cock along Olli’s instead. Olli makes a frustrated sound into Justin’s mouth, pushing against his hands. 

“Shhhh, gently,” he says through kisses… “I’ve got you…” he murmurs into Olli’s neck as he’s sucking at his lobe because that worked so well last time and Olli moans and is twitching restlessly as Justin does it again, seeking more. The sound goes straight to Justin’s cock and he has to start kissing down Olli, moving south because it’s all so good that it’s too easy to get lost in the sensation and set aside what he really wants to do. To get lost in the give and take of it all, but right now he still really wants to suck Olli’s cock. 

So he moves on down, down past the pebbled hard nipples even though he loves the snatches in Olli’s breath he hears as he plays with them on the way, the way Olli rolls his head around as he sucks and nibbles on them. Licking and sucking and kissing down Olli’s happy trail and now he can let go of Olli’s hips as he reaches his cock. 

He takes his time, staring at it because he can and he’s not been allowed to look properly before today. You don’t look in the locker room, no matter how much you might want to.

“Fuck Olli, you’re gorgeous. Just looking at you like this, I’m so hard… is this ok, you still want to do this?”

“Please Justin!” Olli’s voice sounds wrecked and needy. Justin grins at the sound because he’s caused Olli to sound like that and then drops his head and licks up the length of Olli’s cock as it lies on his stomach, heavy and hard. A shiver runs through Olli as he does so, and Justin finds his own body doing something similar as he finally gets to taste Olli, the bitter/salt of his pre-come bursting out in Justin’s mouth. He mouths at the top, letting his tongue play with the taut foreskin - Olli isn’t cut - and Olli is breathing out quiet gasps of ‘fuck fuck fuck’ above him, as he settles down, taking as much of Olli’s cock in as he can. 

It’s been awhile since he’s done this and he can’t get as deep as he’d like, so he slides his hand around Olli’s shaft, letting his saliva and Olli’s pre-come wet the way for his hand, letting his tongue work on the head, now sucking, now licking, now playing with the slit before sliding back down his cock, hollowing his cheeks and gently sucking as he does so. Olli’s keening now above him and Justin loves that he’s so vocal and responsive, feels every sound he makes through his own body and into his cock, the sounds making him harder and harder. He hasn’t ever come just from doing this but for the first time he feels like he could and he has to fight to stop himself rubbing into the sheets beneath him, of forgetting Olli and chasing his own pleasure. 

But he glances up at Olli through his lashes, to find Olli looking down at him with half-lidded eyes, mouth open and gasping, hand flung above his head and opening and closing in time with Justin’s movements on his cock. Olli catches Justin’s gaze and another tremor goes through him. 

“Fuck Justin!” he gasps. Justin smiles around Olli’s cock, tries to push down even further, dropping his jaw and feeling the stretch in his mouth, fighting the gag reflex to suck in even more as he watches Olli, seeing the effect it has on him as he throws his head back with another cry. 

He slides off Olli’s cock, bringing his hand up to replace his mouth, and nosing down it until he’s licking at Olli’s balls, gently, oh so gently suckling them as he rubs his and up and down, playing with the foreskin. As soon as his mouth makes contact with Olli’s balls, Olli jerks upward and somehow Justin manages to find a hand to push him back down, holding him there a moment longer. 

“Gently, remember?” he says reprovingly before going back to suckle on one ball and then the other, rolling them around gently with his tongue. 

“Justin..” groans Olli and fuck that’s about the sexiest thing Justin has ever heard so he sucks a little harder. “Soooo close… please…” 

He wants Olli to come in his mouth, so he slips his mouth back over the head of Olli’s cock, above his hand, but now his other hand is playing with his balls as well and Olli is shaking above him and he looks up again, wanting to watch and then Olli is coming, spurting into his mouth and he looks beautiful and Justin’s mouth is full of the taste and smell of Olli and he can hear his cries as he comes and suddenly Justin is all too close as well and he’s sliding his hand, slick with his own saliva and Olli’s pre-come onto his own cock and pulling hard on it. 

“Let me see…” The murmur comes from above him and he looks up and Olli’s still looking down watching through mostly closed eyes, limp and relaxed on the bed, so Justin obligingly rolls back onto his elbow a little so Olli can see. Justin frantically works himself and then the bright sparks of pleasure are joining and exploding through his body and he’s spilling over his own hand and for a long moment there is nothing but him and Olli in the world and it’s just perfect.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok so no condoms. That would be entirely irresponsible in a real life situation, but since this is fic, I am handwaving in a way which would be unacceptable in a real life situation /public health advisory. 
> 
> Surprise chapter. I wrote a lot in the US (having no wifi in the room concentrated my mind!) so can bring this to you a little bit early. First time ever publishing smut, hoping it's not too corny! I did debate for a long while whether I could actually write these two having sex because they are so cute and adorable, but apparently, I can. 
> 
> Also, I can't remember if I said before, but Olli's injury at the end of last year was never really explained. I've therefore co-opted it to be both highly non-specific and also very useful for plot... if it seems unrealistic, it's because it probably entirely is.


	30. Saving the environment - honestly!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olli and Justin clean up.. or try to... but get distracted. And then, practice, where Justin is surprised once more. 
> 
> (If you're avoiding the smut, you're looking for the section starting 'Somehow they manage...' it's about a third of the way in)

His brain reconnects to find his head pillowed on a muscled thigh, covered in silky blonde hair. ‘Olli’s’ his mind supplies. There’s a hand running through his hair, which he assumes is also Olli’s. He turns his head to the side to kiss Olli’s thigh. 

“You back with us?” He can hear Olli’s smile in his voice. 

“Mmmm.” Talking is still hard. 

“Fuck, Justin, that was so good.” 

“Mmmm.” 

Olli laughs. “I’ll take that as agreement.” 

Justin nuzzles into Olli’s leg again. “Amazing, babe,” he mutters, lifting his head to look up towards Olli, blinking at him blearily. Olli scratches against his scalp and it feels heavenly and he almost purrs. He wants to purr, but he knows how stupid it would sound. 

“C’mere,” and Olli really unfairly leverages his hand in Justin’s hair to pull him up so they’re lying side by side. 

Once he’s there, Olli smiles at him. 

“Hello.”

Justin has to smile back. “Hello back at you.” 

“He talks! He responds!” Olli is laughing at him again, but Justin can’t really complain. He knows what he can be like after sex and this was off the end of the scale. 

“You broke my brain, you don’t get to say anything, it’s your fault.” he replies. “Take it as a compliment.” 

“It’s cute.”

Justin rolls his eyes at that. “I’m not always that bad - you were just so fucking hot.” 

“I didn’t do much!” Olli protests and there’s a shadow of worry across his face. Justin kisses him reassuringly. 

“I wouldn’t let you, I wanted to do that for you and I loved every minute of it. Wouldn’t have had it any other way! Fuck Olli, look what you did to me.” He grins at Olli because really, there’s nothing for Olli to worry about in this. Sure enough, Olli’s brow eases. 

“Look what you did to me!” Olli exclaims back. But he’s smiling again and this time it’s him kissing Justin, lazily and easily. 

They do that for a while, just enjoying it because they can, not letting it lead anywhere, but Justin’s aware he’s still covered in his own come and it’s getting drier and stickier and nastier. Eventually he has to break away regretfully. 

“I need to borrow your shower,” he says. “I’m pretty gross.” 

“We could share one? It’s good for the environment!” 

Justin has to laugh as Olli makes puppy dog eyes at him hopefully, but yeah, that sounds like fun. 

0--0--0

The shower is on the small side, but that just means they have to squeeze up closer together and Justin isn’t going to complain ever about being closer to Olli. Somehow - and he’s not quite sure how, but he thinks Olli had insisted that he be the one to wash Justin, hands covered in soap and so damn inviting - Justin finds himself bracing against the shower wall, with Olli draped over his back, arms around his waist and sliding up and down his newly-hardened cock, now working the head, now sliding back down again. Justin can look down and see Olli’s hands working his cock and his breath catches at the sight, catches again at the feel of Olli’s hands, again and again and again and he’s panting at how good it feels, how right it all seems, feeling Olli’s cock rubbing against his ass, now in the crease, now outside it and he’s starting to shake. 

Olli’s licking and nibbling at his shoulder blade and Justin’s brain catches on that. 

“So, biting is a thing then,” he manages to get out through his panting. 

“Yeah… do you mind?” Olli stops long enough to check. 

“No, feels s’good,” he manages to slur out, and Olli’s doing it again and it does feel amazing and Olli’s cock rubbing up and down his ass, now rubbing over his asshole, now not, feels amazing and the water running down his sensitive body feels amazing and most of all, Olli’s hands on his cock is driving him out of his mind again, all thoughts going, just feelings, all those delicious feelings and just right there and yes and oh god and faster and he thinks he’s making the most ridiculous noises and then he’s being drawn higher and tighter and tighter, his focus reduced to only him and Olli again and so good and how much higher can he go before he falls and then there’s bright pleasure everywhere and he’s falling and it’s just too much pleasure for one person but Olli is there holding him and supporting him and it’s never too much with Olli there for him. 

He comes back to himself more quickly this time, leaning against the wall of Olli’s shower, still boneless but with Olli’s arms still around him, supporting him and Olli rubbing himself against Justin’s ass. He pushes it out a little more, encouraging him by working against him. 

“Feeling so good, babe,” he manages to croak and Olli gasps “Justin!” and stiffens and slumps and he thinks he feels the pulse of Olli’s come before the shower washes it away. Somehow he manages to turn in Olli’s arms and grab hold of him because just at this moment, he’s the steadier of the two and he’s got the wall behind him, supporting him. Olli’s face is slack with his orgasmn and Justin has to kiss it, steal his breath, Olli pliant in his arms, and it all feels so right. 

0--0--0

Somehow they eventually manage to get out of the shower cleaner than when they went in. There had been a lot more touching and caressing as they’d washed, but nothing more than that, both too spent to be doing more than just enjoying the ability to touch each other. Justin’s looking at his prune-like and shrivelled fingers and wonders how long that shower actually took. 

“I’m happy I’ve got continuous hot water,” Olli had said, seeing Justin inspecting his fingers. “Although I’m going to need everything in my next contract to pay the bill!” 

When they left the bathroom, Justin is surprised to see it is dark outside now and he glances at the clock on Olli’s nightstand. Yeah, that shower had taken a lot longer than expected. 

Olli sighs. “I’d love you to stay here tonight, but it’s game day tomorrow,” he says regretfully. “And if you’re here, I don’t know how much sleep you’re going to get and I don’t want to be responsible for you playing badly tomorrow.”

Justin feels relieved. Trust Olli to get it. Other guys in college hadn’t, hadn’t thought sleep before a game was that important, but it’s not just the sleep, it’s the entire routine. Still… 

“Are you curfewing me?” he says with mock indignation. Olli grins, refusing to fall for it. 

“Yep, I am,” he replies unashamed. “Someone has to look out for your game day routine and make sure you’re ready for the game.”

Justin shakes his head. “Olli..you know I’m a grown up, responsible hockey player don’t you?”

Olli snorts his derision to that. “Look at you thinking you’re grown up and responsible. Still if you are, that’s why you are going to agree, isn’t it?”

“Yeah, ok, I am.” He shakes his head. “It’s great that you understand that though. Non-hockey players haven’t been so understanding in the past.” 

It’s weird to be walking bare-assed naked through Olli’s apartment, wrapped only in a towel, trying to find his clothes, his face flushing hotter and hotter as he - mostly - remembered how they had ended up where they had. When he returns Olli is pulling on a henley and jeans. 

“What about your hippo pyjamas?” 

Olli gives him a weird look. “What hippo pyjamas?” 

“The ones you were wearing when I arrived.” 

Enlightenment slowly dawns on Olli’s face. “Oh my god, they’re not hippos, they’re Moomins!” He says indignantly. “Surely they had the Moomintroll books in Canada when you were growing up?” He sees Justin’s blank face. “Well you need to read them now. They’re too good for you to have never read them. They’re a Finnish children’s book.”

“You were wearing pyjamas with characters from a Finnish children’s book?”

Olli blushes. “They’re comfy ok? And a national institution. They’re not just for children, they’re for everyone.” 

“I’m not judging you, you looked cute in them!”

“You’re going to read the fucking books.” 

0--0--0

The next day, Justin is whistling as he comes into the locker room. Olli had said he would be in - he’s due to be cleared for skating with the team soon and Justin knows the team will be relieved to see him getting back. Otherwise though, it’s a game day so there’s not that much opportunity to hang with Olli before the game, and after the game depends on how the game goes. 

He comes to a complete halt though, upon entering the locker room. Olli is grinning at him from his own stall, happiness in every line of him, chirps flying around the locker room at him, and then he sees all the packages piled into his own stall. He stifles a groan… how can it be anniversary day again? 

“How the fuck do you guys remember when I never do?” he asks of the room as he approaches his stall carefully, as though the packages might bite. 

“Because we’re caring, sharing team-mates of course,” says Shears. “Also, Murrs has a reminder in his phone. Although, we haven’t needed it yet, but he likes to be careful.” 

Murrs nods solemnly from his goalie stall. 

“Did you know about this?” Justin says to Olli. 

Olli shrugs. “I’m not going to answer that,” he replies. 

“That’s pretty much a yes.”

“Draw your own conclusions, I’m still not answering.”

Justin sighs and opens up one of the packages. It’s small and feels light and squishy in his hand. It’s wrapped in silver paper, but there’s no tag or indication who it has come from. He tears off the silver paper and there’s a silky, smooth, rich purple tie in it. 

A second package, in polka dot paper, has a striped blue and green tie in it. The locker room is mostly silent behind him, watching him. He goes for a gold - Vegas gold his mind supplies automatically - package next and there’s a black and grey and gold Penguins tie in it. 

The penny drops. The team has noticed his tie situation and has moved - in its own way - to rectify it. 

“You know I do have more than one tie right? I just accidentally managed to leave most of them in Edmonton by accident…” 

There’s a hubbub of noise in response to him, but it’s Geno’s voice which carries across it all. 

“We not leave you wearing one tie only through rest of season,” he says. “Doesn’t look good. Need more than one.”

Tanger cuts in smoothly. “And we thought it would be more fun for you to guess who gave you which tie, rather than labelling them. We’ve even got a fine system in place if you do it - $20 for you for each tie you get right and $20 to the giver if you get it wrong!”

Justin has kept on opening packets and has a myriad pile of colours and patterns and textures in front of him. 

“Wait, what? I never agreed to that!” He objects. Tanger just looks at him, and he knows there’s going to be no get out from it. “Well this one has to be Sid’s!” He points to the black, silver and gold Penguins tie. 

“No! I mean yes, it is, but how the hell did you know?” Sid grumbles from his stall. It seems like the entire locker room turns to stare at him, judgely. 

“Sid,” says Geno. “It obvious. It really obvious.” 

“I don’t see how. Anyone could have got him a Penguins tie.”

“For sure,” says Horny cheerfully. “Anyone could have. But you actually did and no-one else did.” 

There’s a lot more grumbling from Sid as he pulls out $20 and hands it to Justin but slowly the attention drifts away from Justin, as the guys go about getting ready for morning skate. 

Olli’s sat in his stall next to Justin. 

“If I’d known, I’d have got you a Moomin one!” he says, grinning widely. “But I didn’t and I’m still going to make you guess which was mine. Anyway, I need to go see the trainers now. I’ll see you after skate?” 

“Yeah sure, now go. And good luck with them!” 

Olli leaves, to assorted well wishing from the team, leaving Justin to get on with settling his pads and his UnderArmor. 

“Woah Schultzy nice hickey!” he hears across the room while he’s struggling into them, and he looks behind him to see Beau staring at his shoulder. Shit, he’d forgotten about Olli biting him in the shower yesterday. 

“Looks like you had fun!” 

“I did!” he replies hoping that will dampen down the interest but he knows hockey players and he’s worried it won’t. 

“Now we know why you blew us off for pool night last night! You had a better offer!” Rusty is grinning broadly as he chirps Justin, but the rest of the locker room is oddly silent. He glances around. Flower is staring at him with pursed lips and a considering look on his face. Colesy is staring at him, mouth open. Tanger looks furious; maybe he’d gone along for a pool rematch after all? 

“Yeah, sorry, I got a bit involved and forgot what night it was. Sorry, I should have let you know I wasn’t coming.” 

Rusty waves at him, acknowledging and dismissing his apology in one gesture. “Don’t worry about it. But come on details - who is she, where did you meet her, are your intentions honourable?” He’s grinning. 

Justin just shakes his head at Rusty’s questions. “None of your business, none of your business, and oh, yeah, none of your business.” 

“Oh c’mon dude, you can’t come into here wearing that and not tell us anything! Is she pretty?”

Justin considers for a moment. Well, Olli’s no she… but… “Yep - very!” 

“Ok, enough,” says Sid sternly. He sounds more severe than he normally does. “Less gossip, skate is due to begin, if you’re not ready, then get a move on so you’re not late and we don’t have to wait for you. Rusty, less gossip, go see the trainers.” He pointedly doesn’t look at Justin who is by far the furthest behind and Justin is glad he’s able to finish settling his pads without further interruption so while he may be the last, he’s not far enough behind the others to be remarked upon. Even the mongooses seem cowed by Sid’s severity this morning, Sheary whispering frantically in Tommy’s ear as they make their way down the corridor and out onto ice.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Saturday! 
> 
> What a week... Tanger... and then clinching home ice. More ups and downs than a very uppy-downy thing. All the mongoose goals. But Tanger...


	31. Unexpected warnings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's pre game day...

It doesn’t seem that relaxed on the ice this morning; guys are short and clipped and there’s a lack of the normal joking around. Sully watches it with an eyebrow raised but says nothing; they’re still connecting, still running the drills well, but it’s lacking the fun atmosphere skates have had recently. Perhap it’s the mongooses; Rusty got injured in the last game so they found out before skate that he’s out until his knee is better so he's not with them at skate. Although Sunny has come up from WBS again, Rusty is way more ebullient than Sunny is. If the mongooses are subdued, then maybe the team is. At least Dumo is back on the ice even if it doesn’t seem like he’ll be back for the game tonight. He’s still moving a little bit carefully, but seems happy to be back out there, going about the drills with his usual quiet efficiency. 

At the same time, Justin worries. If Dumo comes back, then that could threaten his place in the team. He reckons it would be between him and Poo again; he’s not too sure how Sully is seeing them both at the moment but if he's going to stay on the team he needs to be better. So he puts his head down and works during skate - not to the max, because that would be stupid before a game, but trying to put in place all the stuff he’s been working on, the stick and body positioning he’s been running through with Gonch, the moves with Colesy that Jacques has been talking about. 

Colesy nudges him as they come off ice. “Hey, if that’s what getting laid does for you, maybe you should do it more often.” He’s grinning huge and wide at Justin. 

“Fuck you!” Justin says indignantly. “How do you know I haven’t been getting laid?” 

“Never seen that grin you were wearing into the room this morning!”

Oh. Justin can feel his cheeks heating up at that and Colesy only laughs some more when he sees it. 

Olli’s back in the locker room too, and he’s also grinning. 

“How’d it go?” asks Tanger.

“They said I could skate with you assholes again, but you’ve got to be gentle with me,” Olli is working hard at sounding laid back about it, but it isn’t really working, his excitement leaking through. 

“Hey Olli, we’re always gentle with you!” Justin just can’t stop himself from saying and the way the color flashes over Olli’s cheeks, he’s remembering yesterday too, and Justin telling him to take it gently. For a moment, they’re just looking at each other and then Justin remembers they’re in the locker room and it’s not the time or place so he goes back to stripping tape off his legs. 

“Horny’s not!” says Olli, a little breathlessly, trying to cover their distraction. 

“For sure! Why would I be gentle on anyone in practice? Means you won’t be ready for the game!” Horny replies cheerfully. “It would be a false kindness to do this.”

The defencemen who hear him glower at him en masse. They’ve all been the recipient of his ‘kindness’ during practice before. 

“So are you coming to New York with us Olli ?” Rev is asking. Olli shakes his head. 

“No they said I'm not ready to play that quickly so better to stay here and stick with the rehab. I don't think I'll be on the road trip next week either but they think I should be good for play-offs.”

Colesy whoops on hearing that, leaning across Justin to fist bump Olli. 

“Nice one Olli!”

Most of the rest of the defence are equally as happy to hear the news, and even Poo congratulates him, before turning away, shoulders slumping. But it's also clear from the team’s reaction how high a regard Olli is held in. Even Sid comes over to congratulate him, before fixing him with a stern eye, leaning forward to speak to him quietly, letting the hubbub of the room disguise what he’s saying to most of the others there. 

“But don't cut yourself off like that again Olli,” he says. “You’re team and you’re part of us. If you cut yourself off like that, you hurt yourself but you hurt us too. We need you and we miss you when you aren't here.”

Olli has paled a little at his words, biting his bottom lip. “Sorry Sid,” he says contritely. “You’re right, I just got inside my head too much and it was hard to get out again.” 

Sid nods, face easing into something less stern, more Sid. 

“It's not easy,” he says. 

Beside him Tanger nods, damp hair fluttering around his cheekbones. 

“But we’re here for when it's not easy. We’re stronger if we go through these things together.” Kris is also speaking quietly, his face sympathetic. There’s something in the way he says it that makes Justin think that for Tanger, these aren’t just words, but hard found knowledge being passed along. Olli must hear it too, as his eyes fly up to meet Tanger’s and Tanger half smiles in response. 

“You helped me, Olli, when I needed it but was too pig-headed to pay attention” Tanger says half teasingly, but there’s a serious undertone too. “You could have let me return the favour.”

There's a deeper current here, one that Justin can't understand, that speaks to shared history and shared experiences and he ducks his head, trying to stay out of something that seems very personal and intimate to this pair. A glance at Sid, out of the corner of his eye, shows Sid watching both of them carefully, face neutral. 

“I'm sorry,” says Olli again. “At first I didn't want to be a nuisance, it didn't seem too bad. And then it did and I was twisted up. It was never about you that I didn't come to you for help, it was about me.” 

He’s looking pretty miserable now and Justin has to stop himself from reaching over to comfort him. Not in the locker room he reminds himself. They'd agreed to keep it out the locker room. 

Surprisingly it's Tanger who leans forward, ruffling Olli's hair. 

“I know! And you're here now, that's the main thing! But be warned we almost set Flower on you; that's how worried we were.” 

Justin glances over to see Flower watching them from his stall, obviously doing his best to listen in. He catches Justin’s look and sends him a knowing smile. Justin frowns at him in return; it seems the food from Vero might not have been as simple a thing as he had thought. But he doesn't understand why Flower asked Justin to take them over; it would have been better for Flower to do it himself surely if he was getting involved?

Beside him, Olli has perked up again. “Thankfully Schultzy came over and helped me out then so Flower wasn't needed!” He sends a big, beaming, dimpled smile to Justin. 

Fuck, thinks Justin. He needs Olli to stop doing that but he also, selfishly, never wants Olli to stop. But just not in the locker room and the way Olli is looking at Justin is melting him inside but he can’t do anything about it here and he doesn't want anyone else to realise what's happening and if Olli keeps looking at him like that, there's no way everyone else won't guess. He deliberately looks away, feels Olli’s smile dim and regrets it while mentally breathing a sigh of relief. 

“We’ve all got that to thank Schultzy for then on this occasion,” Tanger replies, but he doesn’t sound grateful, he sounds as though he's trying to stay neutral. When Justin risks a glance at him, his jaw is tight and his eyes are fiery. Justin frowns at him, puzzled, because he really has no idea why he looks so mad. “But we’re here, no matter what happens too - we won’t let anyone hurt you.”

Olli’s brows crease in puzzlement. 

“I don’t understand, who is going to hurt me?” he asks Tanger. 

Tanger shrugs. “No-one, because we’ll stop them, we’ll hurt them first; you’re one of us, Olli.” He flashes Olli what is obviously meant to be a reassuring smile, but it’s more teeth than smile and Olli just looks at him in bewilderment. 

Sid clears his throat. “Tanger!” His tone manages to be both exasperated and warning. 

“Fine!” Tanger says in response. “I'm just looking out for Olli.”

“Tanger,” growls Sid this time and for a moment he locks eyes with Tanger, gaze hard. It's Tanger who breaks first, sliding out from under that look to stare at the floor instead. His face still looks mulish but it's clear he won't stand against Sid in whatever this was about. 

Sid nods, once in acknowledgment before turning to the room. 

“Game day people, let’s get moving” Sid says, voice carrying as he makes his way back to the stall. Tanger turns back to his own stall. 

Justin looks at Olli to see if he has any better understanding of what just happened. Olli’s small head shake and shrug shows that he's just as perplexed. 

“I'm almost done,” Justin says. “Want to grab a coffee before I head out?”

Olli nods. “I'll go get you one, see you in the lounge.”

Justin turns back to finishing up, but not before he's noticed Flower still watching them from across the room. 

0--0--0

Olli already has his macchiato and protein shake lined up for him when he makes it to the lounge. 

“Oh thanks babe!” He settles onto the seat with a small groan. Olli raises an eyebrow at that. 

“Some of us have worked hard this morning!” 

“Some of us were working hard rehabbing in the gym while you were swanning around on the ice!” Olli retorts. “No sympathy from me, that you’re still able to play!”

Ouch. When he puts it like that….

“Sorry Olli,” he says contritely. “That was stupid.” 

Olli shrugs. “I'm getting there. No big deal!” His smile is easy. 

Which reminds Justin. “We’ve got to be more careful in the locker room or they’ll guess. The way you smiled at me! I just wanted to kiss you and I couldn't!”

Olli’s smile grows broader. “Is that why you turned away?” 

“If you'd kept looking at me like that they'd all have guessed! I had to do something.” Justin takes a breath. “It seemed to piss Tanger off though. What was that about ?”

“I’m not sure,” Olli says slowly, thoughtfully, shaking his head. “He seemed to think I’m going to get hurt and it’s like he was giving a warning, but the only other person was you and why would he be warning you? You’re not going to hurt me, we’re on the same team. We’ve talked about this.”

“He also doesn’t know about us - does he?” Justin adds, looking to Olli, but Olli shakes his head. “Maybe he was just worried for you. It was pretty worrying when you went so quiet before.”

“It could be,” Olli says, but he sounds doubtful about it. “Tanger and I… well neither of us take well to being injured and with everything that happened to him, he’s had his rough times too. We spent some time rehabbing together. I looked up to him such a lot when I got onto the team, I wanted to be just like him and of course, that’s impossible. But he helped me a lot when I was just a young kid fresh from Finland and didn’t really know much. He didn’t have to. And he was there again when I went through all the other shit. He’s looked out for me a lot, and maybe he’s just doing that again, seeing problems where there are none.”

Justin nods. Even over such a short time, he’s seen the close relationship between Olli and Tanger; for all of Olli’s youth, he and Tanger have played together the longest on the team out of the defence. 

“Game later,” says Justin. “Whatever it is will sort itself out, but we need to focus on the game.” 

Olli nods. “Are you coming around to mine after the game? No game tomorrow.” 

His tone is hopeful and his cheeks are slightly pink, but the look he gives Justin from under his eyelashes is anything but blushing and Justin finds his breath catching in response. 

“Oh god, Olli, you’re going to kill me looking at me like that here!” he says. “But yeah, I want to come around… I could be wrecked though.”

“I know,” says Olli assuredly, but grinning at Justin’s first words. “Hockey player remember? We’ll just see how you feel after the game. But I do just want to spend time with you and you’re off to New York tomorrow. If all you’re up for is cuddling on the couch, then that’s what we do.” 

Justin smiles at the thought. 

Even with that promise, it's still hard to tear himself away from Olli, to go home and stick with his pre-game routine, not to throw caution to the winds and suggest they spend the day together. 

He does it though. He may be a fuck-up from Edmonton but he promised this team he'd give them his all. So he leaves Olli and goes back to his lonely, sterile hotel room. 

And if he spends a lot of the day messaging Olli, well, that won't affect his game.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playoffs! Best and worst time of the year... 
> 
> So there's a picture I found a few years ago of Sid and Tanger and Olli. Always loved it, always thought it would make a great prompt for a fic, never found the story behind it. And in writing this chapter, I suddenly realised, I've almost written the picture into the fic by accident (the difference is in the photo they're in game gear, in the scene they're in the locker room). But that I managed to do it subconsciously did make me smile... Anyway that's why there is suddenly an image popping up - I couldn't not include it!


	32. Hunting Predators

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pens play the Predators

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, there is still hockey in this! 
> 
> I'm so sorry on the delay for this; I found writing this hard going at times, and it also turned into a longer chapter than expected. But hey, more for you to read as a make-up?

Justin’s out for his first shift in the game against the Nashville Predators that evening, settling into his playing rhythm, getting a feel for the ice and the team they are playing against. They’re driven back into their own end, but an interception by Colesy means he can pass it to Hags, picking up speed and flipping it to Phil. He carries it in but is poke-checked, but Bones keeps it in, passing it to Justin. 

Unexpectedly he finds himself with space in front of him and and Phil going hard behind the net to get behind the two Nashville D standing guard between Justin and the net. Justin looks towards the net, trying to fix the goalie’s attention and then slides the puck sideways to Phil who picks it up easily, settles it down and fires it into a big yawning net. 

Phil doesn’t miss that kind of shot often and he certainly doesn’t now and just like that, his arms are in the air and Justin’s skating hard towards him, shouting his joy and delight.

Colesy gives his helmet an extra rub. 

“You should get laid more often!” There’s a wicked look on his face. 

“Fuck you!” shouts Justin, over the sound of the crowd’s cheers. 

Colesy shakes his head. “I wasn’t offering!” He’s still grinning broadly. They’re less than four minutes in, and already on the board. 

The play sets the tone for the game, the Pens dominating the game, spending lots of time in the Preds offensive end, crashing the net frequently, but unable to get the puck past Rinne again. 

They even manage about a minute on a delayed penalty, before the Preds manage to get possession and the power play starts proper; the Preds scramble, Horny is digging around the net, but the puck just won’t go in. 

“Just keep doing it!” Horny says cheerfully as they get back to the bench at the end of the PP. “I’ll keep talking to Pekka. He hates being talked to on the ice, finds it distracting.” 

Shears looks at him with surprise tinged with awe. “How do you know that? Do you know what annoys all the goalies?” 

“For sure, I wish! No I used to be his roommate when I was on the Preds. I know him pretty well”

Shears looks disappointed. “But you always get to goalies - I thought you had a list of what annoyed them all!” 

“Standing in front of them shoving my ass in their face constantly generally works on most of them,” and Horny gives his battle grin, all teeth. “Talking to Pekka while doing so just makes him madder.” 

“We should have got Olli to teach us some Finnish insults. It’s so much more fun doing it in another language.”

“You can always ask him in the intermission?” suggests Justin. 

Shears brightens. “Good point Schultzy!” 

Justin groans internally. He hadn’t meant to set the mongooses on Olli. 

There’s a sudden shout from the ice, and the crowd gets suspiciously muted as the Preds are clustering in a celebratory huddle. 

“Fuck!” exclaims Horny and sighs. “Oh well, we just need to do it again.”

0--0--0

Perhaps because such little time has passed since the Preds scored and the period ended, as soon as Olli appears in the locker room, he’s pounced on by the mongooses. Justin can’t help but watch the encounter with amusement, settling back in his stall as he pulls off his pads. 

“Olli, we need to know some Finnish insults to annoy Rinne with!” Shears is the first to make the request, but Tommy and Sunny are over, backing him up, Sunny as always managing to look nervous and apologetic, but standing with his fellow mongooses stoutly, nevertheless.

Olli laughs. “No,” is all he says simply in response, shaking his head. 

Shears opens his mouth to start trying to talk Olli round, when there’s a shout from the door. 

“Woman coming in!” shouts Jen, their comms person, just before she enters. It’s a formality. No-one is given time to make any adjustments, but they’re pretty used to her coming and going. Her ‘warning’ gives enough cover for propriety. 

Across the room, Phil makes a noise and jumps up, picking up speed as he heads for the shower area. 

“Stop right there, Phil!” 

It’s obvious Phil’s her target this time but he hasn’t escaped in time, and even Olli and Shears have stopped to watch this battle of wills play out again. 

“Phil, will you do the interview with Dan please?” While she might be saying ‘please’, there’s more than a hint of steel in the request. 

“Eh, I’m good thanks!” Phil says. “Don’t want to steal the limelight from any of the other guys, happy to let them do it.” He makes another move to get away, only to find her hanging onto his arm. An anxious expression crosses his face. 

“It’s been 23 games since you last did one,” Jen replies. “I don’t think that’s stealing the limelight and you are our goal scorer tonight. People like you and want to hear from you! And it’s Dan, he’s a sweetie, you know he’s not going to ask anything difficult.”

“Well, it feels like I’m stealing the limelight if it’s only been 23 games since I last did one. There’s been more players than that on the roster in that time. Can’t one of the youngsters do it? It’s great media experience! Bet it’s been an age since Sunny did one!” and he waves towards them. They return the look with horrified expressions at the way Phil’s just thrown them to the dogs. 

Jen shakes her head at the suggestion. 

“Tommy and Shears did them last game because they scored,” she explains.

Phil is looking flustered and anxious now. “It’d be so much better if anyone other than me did it,” he says beseechingly. “What about Schultzy, he set me up with such a sweet pass, he deserves the recognition.” 

Justin splutters the mouthful of coffee he’s just taken at that. Jen swings around to look at him. 

“Ok Phil, Justin can do it,” she says decisively “C’mon Justin, let’s get you cleaned up a bit and mic'd up.”

He’s shaking his head no, but finds himself standing and following her out the room anyway, his body following unconsciously despite the fact the doesn’t want to do this anymore than Phil did. As he leaves, he hears Flower shouting after him. 

“Schultzy, the magic secret word is ‘comes hard’! Don’t forget to use it!” 

He swings around to glare hard at Flower as he leaves the room, as unlike the last time, that’s close enough to hockey speak for him to bet he’s going to struggle hard not to use it. 

Jen’s producing a Pens baseball cap out of her bag to give to Justin. He takes it from her reluctantly. 

“Why can Phil get out of this and I can’t?”

Jen laughs. “Because he’s Phil Kessel and to put it bluntly, you’re new and still eager to please.” Her smile takes the sting out of the words and Justin has to admit, there’s a lot of truth in them. He had said he was willing to do what the team needed him to do and if the team need him to do this, then he’ll do it. 

All through the interview he’s thinking ‘don’t say it… don’t say it…’ and then right at the end, when he’s almost out of the interview without having said it, he finds himself saying “and we’ll be coming” manages to add in a ‘back’ before he says ‘hard’ to avoid announcing on television that the Pens will be coming hard. Coming back hard isn’t much better.. But it is better. 

Dan fortunately takes it in his stride, apart from an eyebrow raise at him. The cameras cut away. 

“Don’t tell me,” says Dan. “Flower?” 

Justin nods unhappily. “Sorry man, he said to say it just as I was leaving the room, I was trying hard not to and it tried to slip in. Was it ok?”

“Don’t worry about it. You didn’t react to it, so we’ll get away with it. At least it wasn’t multi-limbed dancing octopus!” and he shudders. “You didn’t react to it did you?”

“No, he didn’t,” Jen cuts in. “I’ll tell Flower off again, but it won’t make much difference.” 

Dan laughs. “The day Flower stops doing shit like this is the day we start to worry about him. Thanks Schultzy.”

And with that, Justin is dispatched back to the safety of the locker room. 

0--0--0

When he arrives, Olli is still besieged by mongooses, begging him to teach them some Finnish insults. He’s looking a little ragged, and seems relieved by the interruption of Justin slipping back into the room

“How it’d go?” Olli ignores the mongooses to speak to Justin. 

“Fucking Flower!” 

Justin sits down, starts to prep his kit before he puts it on again. Across the room, Flower’s eyes are wide and he’s starting to grin brightly. 

“Did you say it then?”

“No, but only just avoided it. I did not announce on tv that the Pens were coming hard, but that’s no thanks to you.”

There’s a splutter of laughter from the guys around the room listening in. Flower’s grin widens. 

“What did you say then?” Flower’s trying to ask innocently, but it isn’t working. 

“That we were coming back hard.. So close, but not quite.” 

“That’ll do it Schultzy!” Flower crows gleefully. “Close enough! Were Dan and Jen mad?”

Justin just shakes his head, determined not to give Flower any more ammunition or satisfaction. He goes back to sorting his skates, bending forward to untangle the laces, only to see a bottle of Gatorade appear in his peripheral vision. 

“You haven’t drunk enough!” Olli’s waving it at him. Justin smiles, takes it obediently. 

“You lost the mongooses then?” he responds, between mouthfuls of juice. 

“For now. I think they’ll be back, but I’m not teaching them anything!” Olli’s mouth is set and firm; Justin knows Olli’ll be able to withstand the mongooses way more than he could. He grins, knowing he’ll be able to enjoy watching the spectacle of immovable object meeting irresistible force later as well as the battle resumes. 

But for now, Sully is entering the locker room, grabbing their attention just by his very presence and they have a second period to plan for. He takes another mouthful of Gatorade. 

“Right, listen up..” says Sully, and they’re getting the adjustments for the second. 

0--0--0

The second gets off to the best start possible, Phil taking an outlet pass from Dales and shooting it straight past Rinne like it’s the easiest thing in the world. The tension along the bench recedes slightly and they’re able to settle in. Nothing much really happens for a while, Sully rolling lines, and the play back and forth with no-one getting much going. 

Then Sully’s calling for line changes and Sunny’s out with Horny and Kuni to get Sid out from Josi and Weber on the Preds defence. Sunny gets a good look at goal, getting an unmarked entry with the puck into the o-zone, but Rinne scrambles over to block it safely away. 

As Sunny comes into the bench for a change, letting Sid go out, he shouts to the mongooses. “I tried Swedish but he didn’t react!’

Shears grimaces. “We need Finnish!” as he jumps over the bench. Justin grins to himself, realising Olli’s going to have a whole lot more pressure in the second intermission, and then he’s swinging out onto the ice as Letang comes swooping in for a quick change, glancing around quickly to get a feel for where everyone is and where he needs to be. 

Skating hard is where he needs to be as Sid and Shears bust up ice with the puck, so he follows them, but Rinne somehow stops Sid’s shot and the Preds get it out after the face off, only for Shears to bust it out of his own end this time, Justin skating hard again in support, looking for any rebound with Beau on the other wing. But in the breakaway, stopped by Rinne, Shears has drawn a penalty, and he’s making it known he thinks it should have been a penalty shot - the zebras seem pretty unimpressed though so he returns to the bench, giving up the ice to let the power play out. Justin, following in his wake, can almost feel the hot anger boiling off him, is surprised the ice isn’t steaming behind him. 

It’s Tanger who gets the retribution though, Tanger who scores on a beautiful slap shot from just inside the blue line, somehow getting a lane through the penalty killers and the bench are on their feet cheering as the Pens extend their lead to two. 

It doesn’t last, Shears takes a penalty for tripping - one he protests vehemently and then watches the replay, a mocking smile on his face as it shows the guy lost an edge, not brought down by Shears. Nevertheless, he’s watching the replay from the penalty box and the Pens are on the penalty kill.

They manage to kill it, but in the dying seconds, a shot from Neal goes off Flower’s helmet. The Preds pounce on the rebound and work it around the cycle, Pens players trying to break up the play and suddenly Flower’s raising his hand but play continues and Neal scores. As Flower stands, his mask falls off and there’s a sudden bubble of outrage from the bench as they realise why Flower had been trying to get a stoppage. 

The protests are in vain, it’s a good goal. The Pens are still ahead, but there’s a tightness along the bench dispelling the more relaxed attitude of before. If Justin had to put words on it, he’d describe it as a real ‘fuck you’ attitude. 

It’s picked up quickly by the Preds; Justin out on ice with Colesy and Sid’s line can only watch helplessly as Arvidsson takes Colesy hard to the boards as they battle back for the puck, taking his feet out from under him so he slumps into the wood at the last minute, lying motionless. 

The refs are in there, so Justin has to hang back, waiting nervously, but then he sees Colesy shifting on the ice, glancing around him before getting back up. Sid gets to him first. 

“You ok? That looked hard.” He keeps his tone low. 

“Fuck that was hard, but yeah, seem to be all working,” Colesy says, quick grin returning. “Did I get the penalty?”

Sid just shakes his head. “Speak to Chris!” he calls back over his shoulder as he skates off. 

Justin joins Colesy as they go back to the bench: Colesy has earned the penalty. “Bud, are you sure you’re ok? That looked nasty.”

Colesy shrugs. “Don’t worry about me, I’m tough. Was able to get my arm up to cushion it a bit.” He sits down with a grunt, and their trainer is there immediately, checking up on him. Colesy rolls his eyes a bit but answers his questions and Chris goes away after an intense but thorough interrogation, apparently satisfied that his charge really is ok and not just faking it. 

Meanwhile Justin settles in to watch the PP, waiting to see if he’ll get any second unit time. 

He doesn't. Very efficiently, Dales gets a shot on net while Horny is standing in front of Rinne giving him no chance whatsoever. 

Horny comes back to the bench, grin splitting his face. 

“I think I just learned a bunch of Finnish swear words I didn't know before,” he says. 

Shears’ eyes light up. “Can you remember any of them?” 

Justin groans internally. With only a minute to play, it's really bad timing to remind Shears of his quest. He glances up to the press box, can just about make out a blonde head. 

“No, Finnish is weird, man. Like I can curse out Zuccarello or Eller in Swedish and they’ll understand..”

“Zuccs can speak Swedish,’ Hags says absently. “We taught it to him - needed to learn a civilised language.”

Horny shrugs impatiently. “Whatever. Basically the Finns speak some weird language that no-one else does and despite rooming with Pekka, I wouldn't pretend I could remember what he was saying. For all I know he was telling me how much he loves me and how he misses me!”

“Somehow I doubt that. Not just because it's you and he's a goalie but he's Finnish. They don't have feelings remember?” Hags is laughing. 

Justin shifts uncomfortably. “Hey Olli’s not like that!”

Hags’ grin widens. “Really? Is there something you want to share with us? Has he been telling you his feelings?” He leans forward, clearly interested. 

Justin feels his face going hot, doesn't know how to respond and is saved only by the buzzer sounding for the intermission and a general movement from the bench. He ducks his head, but doesn’t miss Hags still watching him with interest. 

0--0--0

Inside the locker room is the organised chaos of intermission; guys stripping and getting kit looked at and trainers doing the rounds and drinking coffee and eating and hydrating. But in a game like this, it's focused but positive. They're not having to talk themselves up, it's about staying on top and seeing this out. 

Olli is greeted with a shout from the mongooses as he tries to slip in

“Olli, we need those insults! He was saying stuff to Horny!” It's Tommy who has kicked it off this time. Even from here, Justin can see Olli's sigh in response. 

“Still no,” he says shortly, picking his way through the room to join the rest of the D. 

“But why not?” asks Shears. Justin isn't sure if he's purposefully making his eyes as big and puppyish as possible, but even if he isn't, it's a hard face to say no to. Like telling a child Christmas has been cancelled. Left to himself, Justin is sure he would have folded by now, but he knows how strong Olli is. To his surprise Olli actually laughs st Shears. 

“And if I tell you, what happens? You’ll use it against Pekka. And then next time we play the Bruins, you’ll be like ‘Oh Tuukka, he’s Finnish, what was that thing Olli told us?‘ and say something even more mangled to Tuukka.” 

The mongooses are nodding agreement with him. 

“And Tuukka and Rinne eventually work out you're trying to speak Finnish and since I'm the only Finn on the Pens, they’ll know I taught it to you. And come the next time I'm on the national team, they’ll make my life hell. You don't piss off one of your goalies, never mind both of them!”

“He’s got a point,” says Murrs, unexpectedly, joining in for the first time. 

Shears looks at him scathingly. “You would say that!”

“Ok, Horny… Horny!” Olli shouts across the room to Horny where he is deep in conversation with Sid, hands waving indicating they’re talking plays again. Eventually Horny looks up and tilts his head inquisitively. 

“Would you teach the mongooses Swedish insults so they can insult Lundqvist in Swedish?”

Horny looks incredulous at the question. “Of course not. I’ll never hear the end of it next time I play with him. Even if I blame Hags!” 

“I’m not doing it and nor are you throwing me under the bus if you do!” protests Hags. 

“But Flower did it!” protests Shears. 

Flower looks at him, pityingly. “Yes, I’m a goalie. So I don’t have to worry about goalies giving me shit. And also, it was just Giroux, no-one to worry about. And anyone - me, Tanger, Duper - even Sid’s insults aren’t too bad despite how bad his chirps are - could have taught you them.” 

“Hey, don’t forget me, I taught them one!” says Colesy indignantly. 

“You mean you tried to. Crisse, it was appalling,” says Tanger damningly, brows pulled together in annoyance. 

“Ok, so now the mongooses have sorted out linguistic strategies for annoying goalies and avoiding international incidents, let’s think about game strategies.. “ says Sully from where he had been lurking unnoticed, obviously enjoying the discussion. 

And just like that, the Penguins are refocused on the task in hand. 

0--0--0

They stay focused and remain dominant and on top into the third. Lines are rolling smoothly; they even get a power play, which becomes a 4 on 4 when Sid goes off for tripping the goalie, but aren’t able to capitalise, although Sid stops a Preds breakaway as he comes out of the box. 

Justin’s out on ice for the next face-off. He’s enjoying this so much. He feels like he’s playing well, they’re up, they’re on top and they just need to stay focused, look for their chances and not let the Predators get any back - it’s the best kind of hockey to be playing. The puck comes zipping back for Colesy, and he fires it to net where wherever several players are scuffling around the net and suddenly Hags is shoveling the puck to Bones who pushes it past Rinne, hands raising fast in celebration as the puck flies over Rinne’s desperately outstretched leg. 

The bench is all grins as they take the fist bumps and they’re just settling down for the next face-off when there’s a stripey huddle at the Preds bench. Justin skates over to Colesy. 

“They’re not going to try and challenge that?”

“Guess they think it’s worth a chance. Two goals up there’s a small chance; that was the dagger though.”

Sure enough, the Preds challenge for goaltender interference. Justin skates back to the Pens bench, watching the replays on the overhead. He shakes his head; Hags did what he was allowed to do, even though Rinne got a faceful of Hags’ ass. 

Sure enough, the goal stands to a cheer from the crowd. Cole grins broadly - he had the second assist and it’s never nice to have those taken away. 

But it’s over, there’s no way the Pens are going to let the Predators back into this. 

They don’t. 5-2 is the final score.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a playoff series against the Capitals! Please let Sid and Sheary be ok... please let the Pens win...
> 
> Oh, had meant to say... yes, Justin in that interview did say the Pens were coming back hard. Oh hockey cliches..sometimes the real events are such a rich source of material.


	33. Post game interludes

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin and Olli spend more time together and Olli's had enough of Justin's inability to find a place to live...

It feels a little awkward at first at Olli’s after the game, like they aren't sure how they fit together. But in the glow from a victory and a good one at that, and dinner cooked by Olli and the number of times they are distracted in being to touch each other, hold each other, kiss each other, Justin feels the awkwardness rubbing off, feels them relaxing into one another, forgetting the newness and remembering the enjoyment of being with each other. 

Olli, somewhere between last night and now, has managed to restock his spartan supplies and with the inclusion of one of Justin's donated meals (from Horny - it appears to be some kind of baked ribs in sauce) the food is simple but tasty and filling. 

They talk over the game - it's interesting to compare Olli and Justin’s perspective although Olli is so effusive about Justin's play on Phil's goal that he finds himself blushing. It wasn't that good, he just got lucky and Phil's a great player. However when he voices that, Olli rolls his eyes. 

“I think the worst thing is that you genuinely believe that,” he says. “Like if you saw anyone else making that play, you'd be heaping praise on them for making such a good play. There were a ton of ways that could have gone wrong and you played it pretty near perfect. You intended it to happen and made it happen. That's not luck, that's skill.” 

Justin finds himself wanting to disagree, but also can't, no matter how uncomfortable it might make him feel to admit he had played it well. It's like he sometimes still expects to be bad so in his mind when he does do something like that, it's happening instead of him not because of him.   
Olli is near quivering with determination next to him. 

“I’m gonna keep telling you, you know. Until you can accept that you’re responsible for the good stuff as well as the bad stuff.” 

Justin ducks his head. Maybe someday he’ll be able to believe this, but it’s still hard now. But to have Olli’s support…. 

“I don’t know that I deserve you,” he says honestly. 

Olli looks away from him, biting his lip. “I sometimes wonder about that too.”

Justin draws his breath in a sharp inhale - and then notices the laughter in Olli’s eyes, the grin he’s fighting to contain. 

“Asshole,” he growls, knowing he’d been got. 

Olli laughs a moment longer then turns serious again. “If you don't deserve me, then I didn't deserve you coming and pulling me out of my hole,” he says quietly but emphatically. “I don't think that deserve is a word we should be using. That's like saying I'm a better person than you or you’re a better person than me. We’re both two people trying not to fuck up too much as we go through life and sometimes we need other people around us to remind us of that. And maybe we got lucky in finding each other to help with that.” His smile is open and blinding, dimples in full force as he looks toward Justin to see how he receives this. 

Justin can't help but nod. He still thinks privately that Olli is the better person but he can also see that he got lucky to find him. But hell, he looks so sexy when he smiles at Justin like that. 

“I think we definitely got lucky,” he says. “But if you don't stop smiling at me like that then I'm going to have to kiss you like a lot.”

“I'm not seeing a problem with that,” says Olli, his smile getting even hotter. 

It's Justin’s turn to grin but then when Olli tilts his head invitingly he does kiss him - like a lot. And that results in Olli kissing him back a lot as well. By the time Olli is leading Justin to his bedroom and single mindedly removing his own and Justin’s clothing - ‘shhh, you had a game, let me do this for you’ - Justin’s fully onboard with gratitude at the universe for bringing him and Olli together. And as Olli kisses each and every one of Justin's bruises - ‘it’ll make them feel better!’ - and giggling as he does so, Justin has to acknowledge that Olli is again right, it has made them feel better, so much so that he’s been squirming under Olli’s kisses. It's also made his cock harden, particularly with the way Olli had dragged his tongue lightly around and over some bruising on his hips, glancing up at Justin from beneath his lashes to judge his reaction, eyes still dancing with laughter and lust. And then eventually he’d slid between Justin's legs, hovering over his cock so that Justin can feel his warm breath on it. He’d resisted the urge to tilt his hips upward, much as he wants to see Olli’s plump pink lips on it, to feel him, but somehow he’d found the patience to wait instead, to accept what Olli will offer and not try to take. 

Olli had hovered a moment longer, eyes dark, watching Justin and under that look, Justin had struggled to keep his composure. 

“Olli,” he’d groaned in supplication, cock hard and aching for Olli’s touch. At that Olli had smiled. 

“Can I?” And he’d licked his lips, staring now at Justin's cock and fuck but that shouldn't be so sexy, another pulse of want shuddering through his body, lifting him higher. 

“Fuck... yeah…. Olli... please!”

Olli’s grin had broadened at that and then he’d licked around the head of Justin's cock, little kitten licks which wrenched a groan from Justin as Olli's mouth was all he’d hoped, warm and wet and like velvet and what Olli was doing to him was so good and he knows he's making all kinds of noises, hands running restlessly through Olli’s soft blonde hair as Olli settles down and gets to work, barely aware of anything but what Olli - clever, talented, sexy, beautiful Olli - is doing to his cock, is doing to Justin, with his mouth. 

It's just so good and Justin finds himself quickly approaching the edge, breath hitching now, driven higher and higher until he’s tugging at Olli’s hair in warning but Olli doesn’t hesitate, doesn’t pause, just keeps going and then the pleasure is bursting through him in glorious waves.

He’s vaguely aware of Olli sliding in beside him, but post orgasmn bliss is merging with post game exhaustion fast and he tries to move, to do something in response to what Olli has just done for him, but Olli gently stops what is a pretty feeble effort.

“No, no, it’s fine.. You had a game.. Just relax and enjoy and sleep.”

Well.. given that permission… Justin does as he is told, but not before dropping a grateful kiss onto Olli’s shoulder.

0--0--0

Despite being in a strange bed, and unused to sleeping with someone, Justin sleeps better and deeper than expected. He does wake a couple of times, but he’s reassured by the blonde hair glinting in the darkness and Olli’s arms around him are comforting, not confining.

In the morning though he realises that somehow, he’s become the little spoon, Olli snuggling into his back, head pressed against his shoulder, arm draped loosely over Justin. He rolls his eyes a little, but actually, it's also pretty comfortable so he can't complain too much.

But he does need to start his day - they’re off to New York from practice so he has to get his travel kit from his hotel before practice

And he really, really, needs to brush his teeth - somehow between orgasms and exhaustion that got overlooked. 

Somehow he manages to slip out of the bed without waking Olli and do what he needs to. By the time he gets back, Olli is stirring, snuffling into the pillows around him, eyes screwed up like he’s trying to avoid the little light getting into the room. Justin settles back down next to him, grinning to himself about how cute he looks. 

“Morning!” He says softly. Olli grunts in response, but his arm slides around Justin, hand caressing briefly before relaxing again. Justin rubs along Olli’s arm, accepts the futility of trying to do anything and allows himself to be drawn back into dozing. 

0--0--0

His second attempt at surfacing is more successful; Olli is less resistant to wakening, and this time they do manage to get up, get breakfast. Olli goes through his assigned rehab, under Justin’s slightly guilty gaze. He’d forgotten last night about taking care, but Olli shrugs when he sees the look on Justin's face. 

“I was more careful this time, I had no problems.” He shrugs to suggest it's not a problem; Justin supposes that if he had no problems then there's no point trying to make it one. 

Over breakfast, Olli turns hesitant before finally shyly asking Justin if he was still thinking about taking an apartment in Olli's building

“It would get you out the hotel and the team won't be wondering why you’re spending more time over here if we aren't going to tell them? But you may want more space as well so I'll understand if you don't want to move in.”

Justin thinks for a moment. 

“I don't feel comfortable with telling the team yet. It's very new and we’ve already agreed to make no long term plans. Telling them anything feels like it would put expectations on us.” He laughs, a little bitterly. “I always thought if I was worried about telling my team mates I was gay it would be over a negative reaction, not because of how positive they'd be and how them being too encouraging could be a problem!” 

“You’ve never told anyone before?” 

“Not since I turned pro. Some of the guys on my college team, but I didn’t know how it would work in the NHL or AHL, so I just avoided it and said nothing. Ebs may have guessed; he'd have been fine with it given his own stuff, but later I was glad I hadn't. One less thing to be held against me when things went bad. What about you?”

It feels like the first time he's actually articulated, even to himself, why he's been so reticent to tell anyone in the NHL he's gay. And yeah there is relief there that he hasn’t; if he had said, at some point someone would have used that to say that's why he had fucked up so badly. He shudders at the thought of what someone like Don Cherry could have done with it. 

Olli starting to speak, draws him back from his reflection. 

“The core know at least, maybe some of the others, I’ve never really hidden it. I had a thing with another guy on the team before.” His smile is tight, his eyes shadowed. “We didn’t hide it then, didn’t need to with Geno and Sid. But it didn’t go so well - differing expectations - and… well… yeah.” He’s staring fixedly at the table and Justin’s pretty sure that he’s not even seeing what he’s looking at now. Justin can’t help it, he reaches over to cover Olli’s fidgeting hand with his own, wants to draw him out of whatever darker memories are holding him just now. There’s no doubt, there’s pain in Olli’s face. But his face lightens at Justin’s support and he looks up to meet Justin’s eyes. 

“That’s why I was happy to understand where we stood at the outset, so we don’t create a mess like that again. But I also feel like we don’t need to tell the team yet - they don’t need the distraction so close to the playoffs. I won’t lie to them, and they could guess - especially Flower - but we don’t need to offer that information I think.”

“Ok, that’s agreed then. And we just need to try and keep being honest and talking to each other. I’m sorry but not sorry it didn’t work before; I’m not sorry it didn’t work because then this might not be happening, but I’m sorry it didn’t end well.”

Olli shrugs. “What’s it Sully always says?”

Justin interrupts, “Just play? Play the right way? Be hard on the puck? Be difficult to play? Focus on one game at a time?”

Olli is grinning by the end. “No! I meant… oh it doesn’t matter. Anyway, let’s focus on the now.”

“Hey, I said that!” Justin protests. 

“The now is your possible apartment. What do you think?”

“It’s a good idea,” says Justin. “I don’t know how long I’ll be here, but it would be good to get out of that damn hotel, and if it makes it easier to spend time with you, then that’s even better.”

Olli’s dimples are back. “Let’s go see if there’s someone in the office to show it to you then.”

0--0--0

There is someone to show them around. The apartment is fine; it’s furnished and not too big, but it’s a real home, not a hotel room and even the thought of it makes Justin feel more settled. He can pay for it on a weekly basis, and doesn’t need much convincing to set it up to start from the coming weekend. Olli’s even promised to pick up his stuff from the hotel if he can get it packed up before he leaves for New York later in the day and bring it over for him while he’s gone. 

It’s all very domestic, and that just makes Justin very content with life at the moment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> 7-0!! Carter Rowney!!! Olli scoring!!!!!! PENS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!
> 
> This team - so beat up and still finding a way to get it done. 
> 
> (Oh yeah, the story... sorry, there was meant to be more in this chapter, but Olli and Justin decided to have some sexy times in the middle of it, so I decided to break it here. They're easily distracted from my plot lines...)


	34. Revelations

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Injuries take their toll with the Penguins

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Have something to kill the time until the next SCF game! And yay me - 100k words! :D 
> 
> There's a bit of derogatory language around women (and then men, the person involved is being an equal opportunity asshole) at the end of the chapter.

Justin is whistling to himself as he walks into UPMC later that day, still enjoying his feeling of contentment. They've got practice, video and then they're heading out to New York for their game against the Islanders. 

He’s in the middle of changing when Rick Tocchet sticks his head into the room. 

“Hey, we need the letters for a moment? We’d like a word with you. Tanger as well please. Oh Geno, didn't realise you were here too, can you come as well please?”

He ducks back out. There's silence around the room for a moment.

“Anyone know what's going on? That sounds serious,” Sid’s looking around the room for answers but no-one is speaking up. “Flower..” and then he trails off as he sees the goalie is not in his habitual place. His face tightens and he exchanges a look with Geno. “Well, we’ll find out sooner if we go - you guys good?”

There’s a chorus of assent from Kuni, Cully, Tanger and Geno and they depart, leaving a still quiet room but one which gets noisy pretty quickly as players start to speculate about the unusual request and Flower’s empty stall. Murrs and Tisha are much in demand but beyond saying they don't know why Flower is absent, they haven’t heard from him, they don't offer any speculation. 

When the door opens some time later, and Sid enters first looking grim, and leading the others, the noise quickly dies down again. 

“Flower’s out,” Sid announces. “Diagnosed with concussion this morning, they’ve sent him home so he couldn't tell us himself and he’s gone into protocol.” 

There's a burst of curses and groans around the room as Sid finishes. Justin feels his heart sink. For the doctors to be sending him home like that means he's very symptomatic; he feels almost physically sick about what that could mean for Flower personally. He’s very aware - they all are - of what impact concussions can have on a player and the thought of Flower, sarcastic, funny, manipulative, laughing Flower going through the worst of that leaves Justin cold. 

Beside him, Colesy is swearing bitterly. Because it’s not just Flower, it’s their hopes for the season. How can you expect to prosper in the Stanley Cup without your goalie? Justin’s used to the feeling of his team failing, but not like this, not when they’ve been coming in with high hopes and good expectations, full of the knowledge that the team has lost Geno but has adapted and carried on, kept on winning. But now, along with his fear for Flower, the realisation as to what his loss could mean for their playoff chances is flooding in - and it isn’t good. 

Sid gives them a chance to talk for a moment but then holds his hand up once more, commanding silence and getting it. 

“Tishy, Murrs, coaches will talk to you about playing over the next few games. Obviously this is different than what we expected, but we’ll all be standing with you.” He considers the goalies for a moment but is obviously satisfied by what he sees, turns his attention back to the room. 

“This is crap and we know it. But it doesn't change anything and Flower would be first to tell us that himself. We’ll keep on playing the game we want to play and we know we can win when we play like that. We’ve got great goalies to step in for Flower and we’ll clinch our playoff place - hopefully tomorrow at the Islanders.”

“We’ll buy time for Geno and Flower to get back. In the meantime, the rest of the league will look at us and see us as injured and underestimate us. But we know, if we listen to the coaches and keep playing the right way we can do this. We’re a good team and we can do this.” 

“And if we can’t do this,” Tanger speaks up from his stall, “Then we have to explain to Flower - collectively - why we let him down. We really don’t want to have to do that.”

“But Sid..” Tommy tails off quickly at the look coming his way from Cully. 

“It’s not part of the captain’s role to explain to your pissed off goalie why your team has so badly fucked up that they’ve fallen apart in his absence.” Sid is very firm on that, and Justin can see the trepidation in the faces of the guys around the room, imagining Flower’s response if they don’t carry on. “But this is also why we are having this talk. It isn’t going to happen; we’re going to keep on playing as we are and not let it affect our play. We can do this. We know we can do this. We just need to believe in ourselves us a team and there’s nothing we haven’t been able to overcome this year. If we keep on doing that, we can still do this.”

He looks at them a moment longer, face fierce with belief and determination then turns and continues his pre-practice routine. The other A’s follow his lead, and slowly the locker room returns to its business, noise slowly picking up. 

It's not often Sid lets his competitive nature show off the ice, Justin reflects as he carries on changing. It's usually tamped down and held in check by his humbleness and inherent Canadian manners. But here, now, Justin could see Sid’s will to win burning fiercely through, his drive and determination. Sid believes they have a chance and he’s going to fight with everything in him to overcome any obstacles in his path, even if he has to drag his team along behind him, every inch of the way. 

Somehow, that thought is comforting. 

0--0--0

After that news, practice is pretty subdued, the lack of sarcastic commentary a constant reminder of Flower’s absence and the reason for it. But there’s no slacking off; the team put their head down and work in a way which has Sully and the other coaches nodding their heads with satisfaction. 

With it looking like Dumo is returning to fitness, Justin is relieved that his pairing with Colesy is retained and that Poo is the odd D-man out. It’s not certain, but it does indicate he’s keeping his place on the team and he feels himself relax a little at that. 

That’s confirmed when Jacques Martin calls him over at the end of practice. 

“Schultzy, you’ll be in tomorrow night,” he says, without preamble. “We know how hard you’ve been working, and we can see the effect it’s having in your game. Keep doing that, keep working on your positioning and your stick work, we’re happy with how you’ve been doing.”

Justin ducks his head at that, trying to hide his blush and smile. He went too long with nothing positive from his coaches in Edmonton that any praise from the Pens coaches makes him feel like a cat, basking in sunlight. But he acknowledges what Jacques has said, and heads back to the dressing room, thoughts a whirl with what Jacques has just said. 

Olli is there and smiles when he sees Justin. 

“They want me to skate in pads today!” He’s excited at the prospect and Justin grins back. 

“That's great news bud! When do you rejoin practice?” Colesy jumps in before Justin has a chance. 

“They're saying this week, if today goes well. Maybe when you get back from New York?” 

“Nice one Olli,” Dales is grinning widely too, the D apparently wanting to hear some good news after the morning’s bad news. 

“Good, we’re needing another responsible defenseman back. Just having me and Dumo aren't enough,” Tanger says, mock sternly. 

“Tanger!” Colesy’s tone is injured outrage. “Man, way to put down your D when we’ve been slaving hard behind you! I expect that kind of shit from the forwards, but not from you. Don't you realise the sacrifices we are making to allow you to skate prettily around the rink? I'm perpetually bruised from all the shot blocking. I've got expert in turning my legs so the puck deflects off them and to a forward! Being able to angle a shot block so you can angle the rebound where you want it to go takes a lot of skill.”

Tanger grins back at him. “You could always try learning to use your stick to deflect the pucks where you want?” 

Colesy looks sad. “I tried that, it's too hard. It's just too much of an elite skill for me.”He sounds mournful but his eyes are crinkling in laughter and Justin finds himself giggling. Only Colesy would claim he was too bad of a hockey player to be able to use his stick to control a puck. Olli and Ben are laughing too and it spreads through the defence corner. 

That causes Colesy to exclaim “I get no respect!” which only causes them to laugh louder, Dumo’s shoulders shaking with laughter and Tanger laughing exuberantly. 

“When you guys are finished sounding like hyenas we can get to video,” Sid says acerbically. There's a surprised silence in the room after his intervention and Justin starts to feel bad about how they were behaving given the news that morning. 

“Danger boys, Sid has his grumpy cat face on this morning!” Horny breaks the silence, smiling as he does so. Glancing at Sid, Justin can see Horny’s right - he does look really like a grumpy cat. He tries not to catch anyone else’s eye as it's just an all too appropriate description and he really doesn't want to laugh again after effectively being warned off once. But it's the snort of laughter, quickly suppressed from Shears, followed by a choke from Rusty which does for him - and most of the rest of the team until the laughter is bouncing around the room. 

“Fuck you Horny!” stutters Sid but his cheeks are flaming and he's also given up and is laughing too. 

“Much less grumpy now!” Horny replies, satisfied. 

“Who grumpy?” Geno asks as he comes into the room. 

“Sid,” answers Kuni, all matter of fact and ignoring Sid’s betrayed exclamation. 

“Well he shouldn't be unless it be because of no sleep last night,” Geno says smugly. “Although could be is sad he spend night without me tonight.” 

“No!” exclaims Kuni. “How many times? We do not need to know about your sex life!” 

“Is not sex life, is love life!” He pauses thoughtfully. “Although plenty of sex too,” he finishes with a smirk. 

“Enough!” Sid is on his feet, face scarlet. “G, that's enough! Some things are private!”

“Sorry Sid,” Geno says apologetically. “But we all worried about Flower too. Not right that weird goalie be injured like this. But I know you worry most and that make you grumpy - but team worry too! Need to be there for each other. Me talking about our love life brings you all together,” and he very deliberately winks at Sid. 

Sid’s face softens - a lot - and becomes fond and he moves towards Geno. 

“Oh god,” Tanger mutters. He raises his voice louder “If you’re going to make out, you need to go to the showers, that’s the agreement!” 

“Ok we go..” says Geno as Sid cuts in. 

“We’re not going - we have video G! - but I’m sorry guys, I was grumpy with you this morning, and I shouldn’t have been.”

“Even best captain is not perfect, but we forgive you Sid, we know it because you care too much. Don’t we?” Geno turns to the room. 

Justin thinks the team would have nodded agreement anyway, with their captain making puppy dog eyes at them like that, but to make sure Geno is standing behind him, just defying anyone to complain or disagree. No-one is stupid enough to argue with Geno when he’s defending Sid. 

“See all good now. Can worry about Flower but not be grumpy and can be good and go to video and not make out.” 

“Plenty of time to make out in the off-season!” Sid replies tartly, regaining his composure. 

“That’s months away!” Geno protests.

“Only if we go to video and keep listening and learning.” 

Geno groans in resignation but settles down in his stall, waiting while the rest of the team finish changing. Justin shakes his head to himself. It's still hard to take in sometimes how domestic two of the best players in the league can be around each other. 

“That's nothing,” says Olli softly. “You should see what happens when they fight.”

0--0--0

After video, they're due to depart for the airport to fly over to New York. Olli grabs Justin as they're getting ready to leave. 

“Did you get your stuff packed? Still want me to get it?”

Justin digs into his pocket, pulling out his wallet and hotel key. 

“Yep, all ready to go. You sure you don't mind?”

“No, not at all! By the time you're back tomorrow, you’ll be all moved in!” He gives a casual wave alongside his grin as he moves off in the direction of the car park. 

Justin turns back to the group to find Phil, Hags and Colesy watching the interchange between Justin and Olli. 

“Something you want to tell us eh?” Phil asks, grinning. Justin does a mental double take as he realises how what Olli just said would have come over to the spectators. 

“Oh god no, it's not like that!” he splutters. “I'm taking an apartment in Olli's building and he's helping me move my stuff over.”

“Oh hey, that's great buddy! Better than a nondescript hotel and will make it easier to see your girl,” Colesy says excitedly. “When's the housewarming party?” 

“Certainly not this week,” says Justin. “Have you seen our schedule? Also, what girl?”

“Oh sorry bud, the one with the hickey? Didn't realise it wasn't…” and he trails off before re-grouping. “Yeah, whatever fucker at the NHL thought this was a fun way to close out the season…” he shrugs, indicating his contempt for such a belief. 

Hags cuts in. “So, same apartment block as Olli? That’ll be convenient!” His gaze is speculative. 

Justin makes sure to meet Hags eyes but he's sure he's flushing slightly. “Yeah we’ll be able to carpool! Might only be for a few weeks but it’ll be nice to get out of the hotel.”

“More discrete,” agrees Colesy and what? 

“Discrete?” Justin echoes, confused. 

“You know if you're playing the field with the bunnies!” says Colesy. “Less chance of it being noticed.”

“Puck bunnies?” says a voice behind him, and suddenly Tanger is there too. “What’s this about bunnies?”

“Schultzy’s getting an apartment in Olli’s block so he can have fun with the bunnies!” Colesy says with a smirk. 

Justin groans internally. 

“Really?” says Tanger and he’s starting to look pissed for some reason. 

“No!” says Justin hastily. “No, I’m getting an apartment in Olli’s block because I’m fed up of living out of a hotel and he knew they had some there that could be rented week to week through the rest of the season. It’s nothing to do with bunnies!” he finishes plaintively. 

“Yeah, dude, we know you have to say that - but we saw that hickey!” and Colesy winks, causing an intensification of the pissed vibe coming off Tanger. For some reason, Hags is starting to laugh and Phil is grinning and Justin feels like he’s lost complete control of the conversation. 

“Look I’m not interested in bunnies!” he insists. 

“Oh come on man, we saw the hickey and you said it wasn’t serious!”

Something in Justin gives. “It wasn’t a bunny, it was from a guy ok?” he snaps at Colesy. “I’m not interested in women!”

And then his brain catches up with what his mouth has just said and he realises he’s just told his team mates he’s gay. 

Colesy is starting to grin; Justin can’t bring himself to look at either Tanger, Phil or Hags, he just wants to get out of there. 

“Oh man, you kept that quiet!” exclaims Colesy. “That’s cool. Say, are they still puck bunnies if they’re guys? I guess not… oh puck bucks! That’d be a cool name for them - please tell me they’re called puck bucks?”

“I really need to go get my gear,” mutters Justin and hightails it out of there before anyone else has a chance to react. He feels sick; he just really needs to get away while he thinks through what he’s just done.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I feel like I could have written that chapter summary at any point this season too!
> 
> It's canon that Flower got concussed in the Preds game last year (@*&£(£(£( James Neal). Murray starts playing and the rest... Without that, we'd probably have kept Murray in the AHL, the rest of the league might not have realised what a star he was and we could have kept Flower while developing Murray more slowly. 
> 
> And man... 2-0 up against the Preds... they just keep doing it! Somehow they just keep finding a way... And little baby perfect man child Jake Guentzel! And Olli's moustache! And Kunitz realising if he doesn't start scoring he won't achieve his historic 0.5 PPG playoff scoring rate - he's now sitting on 0.5 PPG. 
> 
> True story - before Game 1, it was too hot here to wear my usual Pens jersey for the game, but I have to wear something... and then I remember that I got a Conor Sheary t-shirt which is unworn, waiting for summer to hit. So I wear that... and he scores! It's now my lucky SCF go to t-shirt - 100% record when worn and he's had points in every game Ive worn it for! :D


	35. What happens when you accidentally out yourself

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin deals with the aftermath of his accidental revelation.

He flees to the restrooms and locks himself in a cubicle, pulling out his phone, calling up Olli in his messaging contacts. 

_I just accidentally outed myself to some of the team_

Olli’s online and he sees the three dots to show he’s replying. Justin leans his forehead on the cubical wall, trying to still the feeling of sick nervousness. Surely, it will be fine?

_???_

He stares at it a moment and then decides Olli wants more information. 

_Colesy was bugging me about your hickey and puck bunnies and I told him it was from a guy, that I’m into men. Colesy, Hags, Phil and Tanger were all there!_

_Ok, how did they react?_

_I don’t know, I ran away and now I’m hiding in the restrooms_

He pauses, remembering what Colesy had said that had almost escaped unnoticed in his panic to escape. 

_well Colesy told me it was cool and then wondered if male puck bunnies are called puck bucks and then I ran away_

It’s almost with dawning wonder that he realises Colesy had just accepted his d-pair coming out as though it was nothing. He has to share that thought with Olli. 

_fuck, Colesy didn’t care!_

Eventually Olli’s dots stop bouncing and his message appears. 

_that sounds good. Why are you hiding in the restroom?_

Justin sighs, thinks back to what caused him to flee. 

_it was too intense, first time i came out to anyone in the NHL that isn’t you. Got panicked about their reaction_

He’s suddenly aware he’s shaking now in reaction to those intense emotions. 

_that's understandable. But you must have to leave for airport soon? And the team will still accept you the same_ comes Olli’s response. 

Justin sighs. Reading that he realises he still doesn't want the team knowing. It shouldn't be a big deal, but the habit of secrecy, of hiding that part of himself is too ingrained for him to cast it aside lightly or easily. His head is telling him he’ll be fine but he can't overcome the feeling of fear he has when he pictures everyone knowing. 

_I don't think I want the team knowing yet. I know they’ll probably be fine but it feels wrong to tell them_ he sends back hesitantly, hoping Olli will understand. He knows he's being a coward, but he just can't. 

_whatever works for you babe. You know I'll support you whatever you decide. But you need to tell the guys who know that as well - they’ll respect what you want, they won’t out you more against your will. Now go get that bus before you get left behind or worse make the team late! xx_

Justin lets out a huff of air in relief as he reads Olli’s response. He’d hoped Olli would back him, but he also hadn't expected it, too used to being the odd man recently. He should have realised though that someone as kind and understanding as Olli would be behind him and it just makes him more grateful Olli is in his life, even in this limited in the moment thing they’ve agreed. 

He stops to splash some water on his face then heads out. He's barely moved five yards from the restroom when he's stumbled over by a harassed, running intern. 

“Mr Schultz, I was sent to look for you, they're waiting for you at the bus!” she exclaims breathlessly. He acknowledges it and begins to head purposefully to the bus, only stopping to grab his bags from his locker. She shadows him all the way, urgency in every line until she's safely shepherded him to the waiting bus where she peels off. Sully gives her a nod in recognition - of a good job of rounding up recalcitrant players Justin thinks - before turning his glare on Justin. 

“Sorry to keep you waiting, I lost track of time.” It's all he has but Sully let's it pass with a snort and another glare. 

He boards to a lot of chirps from the team. Weaving his way up the bus, apologising as he goes, at least Colesy has kept him a seat and he slides into it gratefully, the bus already pulling out as he does so. 

“Thanks man!” 

“No problem! We were starting to worry that having to play in the Barclay Centre again had meant you’d run off back to Edmonton.” He gives Justin a sideways look. “It wasn't about what you said just before was it? You know that's not a big deal.”

Trust Colesy to address it absolutely head on and not at all subtly. But it gives Justin the perfect opportunity to do as Olli wanted and it's easier to start with Colesy who has done nothing but offer positive support and kindness to Justin from the get-go. Colesy is open and honest and unable to dissemble. What you see is what you get. 

“Yeah, it was. I kinda didn't expect to tell anyone and if I was going to do it, that's not how I'd have chosen. It got a bit intense there. Sorry for just dropping it on you like that.”

Colesy shrugs. “It’s really no big deal. I suppose I shouldn’t have been bugging you, but hey, sometimes it’s nice to live vicariously through you single guys!” 

He pauses, looks at Justin curiously. “So were you keeping it a secret? You've hardly talked about your private life since you got here, but you're very good at doing it in such a way we don't really notice. Who else knows? I mean clearly you're...doing stuff.” 

He gestures briefly with his hands in a way which clearly is meant to be the universal signal for ‘having sex’ but which kind of falls short. “Do you have a boyfriend? Or was that really a puck buck? I still want that to be a thing you know!” 

“It’s kind of the first time I've told anyone in the NHL,” Justin replies, as much to control the flood of questions. “Olli knows and you four and that's it. The guys at college knew but only Ebs in Edmonton and he kind of guessed, I didn’t tell him. I just thought it was easier to keep it quiet. Didn’t really expect to find a team where two of the letters were together, let alone Sid and Geno and the team was cool with that. But as I said, I didn't really intend to say anything; please don't tell anyone else.”

Colesy’s face softens, his grin gentling. “Hey bud, whatever you want. It makes no difference to us but it's what you want. And I'm pretty honoured though that even though you didn't mean to, you trusted me enough to tell me.” He is puffing up as he says it and Justin has to smile, in relief that Colesy is so accepting and in gratitude about actually what a pretty great person he is too. In many ways he's been so lucky in coming to Pittsburgh and being paired with Colesy is just really one of them. 

“So about puck bucks…? Colesy says hopefully and that really sets Justin laughing. 

0--0--0

On the plane, Flower’s absence is all too apparent as Sid is sitting by himself, looking grumpy and out of sorts, bereft of his long-standing plane companion. 

Tanger, just ahead of Justin, makes a ‘tsk’ noise. 

“Who let the grumpy cat onboard?” He asks mockingly. 

“Fuck you Tanger!” Sid exclaims, but he brightens up considerably when Tanger slides into the seat Flower would usually occupy. 

“Don't worry, we have a contingency plan. Flower drew up a succession plan for times when he is absent, as we didn’t want to leave you sitting on the plane by yourself. The exact order of succession is a closely guarded secret, but just now, I am tasked by Flower as your designated ‘plane companion’ to ensure you won’t miss him too much. Indeed, after sitting next to me for some flights, I’ll understand if you don’t want to have him sitting next to you again!” His grin is blinding and self-satisfied. 

“Like that would happen!” complains Sid, but he’s still looking happier. In the row behind, Kuni is chortling, obviously also aware of the contingency plan and then Justin is passed them all, and making his way up the plane. It seems very Penguins for someone to have had the forethought to plan ahead around injury to keep Sid from feeling alone.

His thoughts are interrupted by hearing his name called. Hags is gesturing and pointing at the empty seat next to him. Justin tries to wave him off, looking up the plane to his usual seat alongside Colesy and Dales, but Phil is already in it, looking smug. He waves when he sees Justin looking in his direction. 

With a sigh, Justin gives in and settles into the seat next to Hags. 

“Looks like Sid’s seating arrangements weren’t the only ones planned out,” he says to Hags. Hags looks as smug as Phil had managed to do; although being Hags, he does it whilst looking cool, whereas Phil had only looked so much like someone’s favourite uncle. 

“What can I say, I wanted to talk to you about something and wanted to make sure I could do it somewhere relatively private so I asked Phil to help me out.”

Justin looks around the plane; being surrounded by the entire team is not really private, yet at the same time, he can’t complain too much as he knows what Hags means. The background hum of the aircraft is enough to white noise their conversation and it’s not such a long flight that guys will get restless and start to wander. Especially not with the crew coming through the plane handing out their pre-ordered snacks and meals. 

He waits Hags out. Hags had wanted to talk to him and Justin already feels like he's done a lot of talking today, is starting to feel raw from how much of himself he's left exposed and open. 

Hags acknowledges his silence with a half smile as the plane climbs into the sky. 

“I just wanted to check how you were doing after earlier. That seemed more accidental than intentional?” 

“Yeah, a bit,” confirms Justin. “But it is what it is. Can only worry about what we can control.”

Hags regards him consideringly. 

“Don't try and Sullyism your way out of this.” His voice is light and teasing, but then gets more serious again. “Seriously, it makes me uncomfortable when someone reveals something like that about themselves then leaves immediately. Like it leaves me wondering why you left after saying that, like you didn’t want to see our reactions or something.”

Justin shrugs. “That was part of it,” he admits. “I mean, I know with Sid and Geno on the team it's not going to be a problem, but in the moment it was hard to believe that. Too big a habit of not speaking about it I suppose, to suddenly find myself saying that out loud...” He trails off. It’s kind of sinking in now as he talks about it, both the enormity of what he has done but also, how little it isn’t enormous in this time and in this place. 

Hags smiles. “Well for the record, it makes no difference. You might understand that, but I think we need to say it too so you hear it from us. It’s great you felt safe enough to tell us - even if you didn’t plan to. But we like you for who you are, not for who you like. That’s way less important than the way you’ve fitted into the team. It’s not unimportant - but it doesn’t really form a part in what we think of you. And you are a great guy who has fitted onto the team really well; you’ve become part of us so quickly.”

Justin blushes at that. There’s really not a lot he can say to that. He’s sure Hags is just being nice, being nice to a fuck-up rental from Edmonton because Hags is such a great guy himself, trying to make everyone feel welcome to the team. 

“Thanks,” he mutters because he has to acknowledge it somehow. “It’s been easy to come in when I’ve been made to feel so welcome; I’m pretty sure anyone would have fitted into this team.”

Hags shakes his head slightly, chidingly. “We’ve already talked about the guys who couldn’t and who didn’t, so don’t sell yourself short. It’s not an easy thing to come into a locker room at the trade deadline and you’ve done it well. If we didn’t care, we wouldn’t be celebrating your arrival on a weekly basis.” His eyes are dancing as he says it, full of mirth, but it’s good-natured, so far as Justin can tell, laughing with him, not at him.  
“It’s hard to believe sometimes,” Justin responds. “And then I have to remember it won’t last.”

“It might,” contradicts Hags. “You can’t tell. As my grandmother back in Sweden tells me, don’t go bothering trouble. And yeah, I can get that it’s hard to believe, just try to keep an open mind on it - and remember that what you told us today won’t make any difference, one way or the other.”

Justin nods. “About that…” He hesitates, wondering how to word his request. “I’m not sure I'm ready to tell the team.” He sees Hags opening his mouth, holds up his hand to forestall it. “It’s not about them or their response, it’s about me and how long I’ve not talked about this. Having a small group of you know is helping - however I told you - but I want to get used to that, to get used to the idea that people in the NHL know, before I feel ready to tell the rest of the team.”

Hags looks at him thoughtfully for a long moment. “Ok,” he says eventually. “It’s your choice; I wouldn’t tell anyone if you wanted me not to, it’s your life. I’ll tell Phil as well. I presume you’ve already told Olli?”

Justin chokes. “I didn’t say anything about Olli!” he protests. 

“No, you didn’t, did you?” Hags smile is wide and knowing and Justin holds his breath - surely Hags can’t have guessed? “But given you’re moving into this apartment block… it seemed a reasonable guess.”

On the surface, it sounds a good enough reason for the guess, but Justin just can’t get past the look in Hags’ eyes. He’s sure Hags knows, but he doesn’t know how to ask without confirming it. 

“And tell Tanger,” Hags finishes. 

Justin sighs. “I’m worried he’ll be mad again.”

“Tanger’s a pussy cat. Admittedly, a proud, hot-tempered, fiercely loyal pussy cat who would do anything to defend those he holds dear but if you remember that, he’s a pussy cat. Right now, he’s worried about Olli so he’s a bit more snarly than normal. But you’re also one of his and he’ll be just as protective of you as he is of all the other D. Just remember that when he snarls, it’s usually because he worries or he cares. Unless of course it’s at someone on another team, then it’s because he hates them. But talk to him - it’ll be fine.”

The warning chime goes, with the crew announcing it’s ten minutes to landing into New York. Cabin crew are gathering up detritus from the flight, readying the cabin for landing.

“Hey man, thanks,” says Justin. Hags hadn’t needed to do this. 

“Just what we do for a valued and liked member of the team,” replies Hags easily. Justin just shakes his head, not wanting to go back into a conversation he’s only just got out of.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a week! This time last week we were on tenterhooks, waiting for the puck to drop :D 
> 
> Ok so I patently failed in my attempt to finish this before the 2017 Stanley Cup. I'm - in part - blaming the 2017 Stanley Cup as it was really hard to find time to write when I was hoovering up all the Penguins coverage after a win, or refusing to acknowledge hockey existed after a loss. But somehow, the boys did it! 
> 
> Now, let's get this Vegas thing out the way so we can mourn Flower (I still haven't managed to watch his exit interview in full since every time he sounds choked up, I start crying). Get Justin re-signed and hope the trades (if there are any) are both good hockey trades but also good fic trades (please can we have Eddie Lack as our back-up goalie next year?)
> 
> Oh yeah, and next chapter,the guys actually manage to play some hockey again!


	36. Gambling with the mongooses

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dinner with the team...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm sorry, I promised you hockey this chapter. Then Kunitz (sob) happened to this chapter. So hockey next time!

Justin feels pretty emotionally exhausted by the time they get to the hotel, happy to retreat to his room to chill before team dinner later. He does mean to call Olli, he really does but he lies down on his bed for 5 minutes and the next thing he knows, there's an urgent banging which he blearily identifies as coming from his door. 

“Yes,” he manages to croak, glancing at his phone and realising that he's managed to sleep past the meeting time for dinner and missed calls and messages from Olli as well. 

“Oh shit, I fell asleep!” he exclaims to appease whoever is threatening to break down his door. 

“Tanger said to say if you're not down in 5 minutes you're being fined the cost of dinner for everyone!” It's Rev but at least he's stopped banging on the door. 

“1 minute!” Justin is stripping off his crumpled shirt, pulling on a purple Henley instead and shucking out his dress pants to pull on some jeans. It's about the best he can do in the time he has and, grabbing his wallet from his jacket pocket, he's good to go. He'd have preferred a shower but it's his own fault for not doing that when he got in. 

Rev is leaning on the wall of the corridor, waiting for him. 

“Am I the last?” asks Justin hopeful he's not the only one being rounded up. 

Rev nods. “Again.” He grins. 

Justin groans - he had forgotten he’d already held them up trying to get to the airport. 

“I’m surprised Tanger gave me five minutes.”

“He probably wouldn’t have, but Phil took your corner. Said it wasn’t like you were like Rusty, you don’t do it all the time.”

Tanger does ostentatiously check his watch when they arrive but he just shakes his head and says nothing, so Justin figures he’s got away with it. 

0--0--0

Of course they go to a steak house and it’s good. There’s no talking about feelings, there’s just spending time with the team, being able to relax and enjoy it. There’s a missing piece in the team with Flower’s absence - the table is quieter and less sarcastic if nothing else - but nothing keeps the mongooses down for long and as usual they’re irrepressible, sassing anyone or anything, noisy chatter filling the room. 

Well, that is until Kuni, getting the cheque, glances at it and throws it on the table. 

“Credit cards!” he says. “Get them out - we’re playing cheque roulette.” 

There’s a groan from around the room, but Kuni is relentless. “You know there are some teams who do this every time there’s a team dinner. Be grateful we only do it occasionally!” 

Justin can’t help but nod. It’s the first time he’s seen it done here - he’d started to think that the Pens didn’t do it at all - but in Edmonton they’d done it a lot. They’d even managed to set it up once so McD had paid and Justin was pretty sure he’d also been set up, early on. Now, he has to admit it's not such a big deal for him, he can afford it since he’s been living fairly frugally since he got here and he’s pretty well paid, but he can remember the fear as a rookie and looking at the mongooses now, they all look apprehensive, although some are better at hiding it than others. Murrs almost looks as calm as he usually does, although his hand is white on his glass. Sunny on the other hand has gone pale - he’s only been up for a few games, whatever the cheque is, it’s going to be a big sum of money for him and he likely can’t really afford it. 

He tosses his own card into the ever growing pile in front of Kuni. Soon after, they’ve got one of the wait-staff drawing out cards one by one and reading off the names as they appear to a chorus of commentary and chirping from around the room. 

Sid’s card gets pulled out very early - he’s immediately chirping Tanger whose card is still somewhere in the pile, smirk broad and annoying. 

“I can’t believe you’re competitive over this,” Tanger replies sadly, shaking his head with mock disappointment. “What happened to the old school NHL captains who would pick up the tab just to show their appreciation for their team?! Dying breed. Bet you Toews would pay - he’s a great leader!” 

“Fuck you Tanger! I get plenty of tabs!” exclaims Sid, obviously stung by this. Tanger just stares at him a moment then smirks back, happy to have got the reaction. And then his card is called, and he’s flipping Sid off. 

To the relief of most of the guys there, Sunny also gets his card pulled out early. His tension releases and he looks like he’s won the lottery; Justin’s pretty sure he wouldn’t have been left to pay - hell, Justin would have paid himself rather than see a kid like Sunny on league minimum, just off an AHL salary do it - but it’s better he doesn’t have to go through the stress of worrying about it. Sunny is openly relieved to hear his name called. Hags calls something to him in Swedish which causes him to duck his head and blush but he answers nevertheless, and whatever he says causes Horny to burst out laughing in return, waggling his finger at Hags in chastisement, eyes twinkling. 

Horny then must realise the entire team is watching him as he ducks his head a little. 

“Swedish things!” he exclaims, gesturing dismissively at them all, before standing up and leaving the room in search of the washrooms. 

Justin is content to have his card returned about two-thirds of the way through, accepting it with a big grin. 

“Shame, I’d have loved to have the Oilers buy me dinner!” says Cully. 

“Yeah, because they’re one of the few teams you haven’t played for!” Fehrsie replies immediately. Cully laughs and shrugs in acknowledgement, and the card drawing continues. 

When they’re down to the final three, Kuni calls a halt, to reveal who are left. It’s between Colesy, who looks as casual as Justin felt about it, Phil who takes the cheers when his name is announced with a wave and Shears, who is trying hard for casual. He doesn’t complain, just nods and squares his shoulders when his name is called out. The other mongooses look aghast for him though, Tommy starting to protest before being dug in the ribs by Shears and frozen with a look. 

Colesy’s is the first card of the three to be drawn, and he high-fives those sitting around him - including Justin. 

“Looks like the forwards are buying us dinner!” he crows. “I fancy having the Leafs buy it for us though.” There’s a cheer at his words, and they turn back to see Kuni holding up his hands for silence - or at least something a bit quieter. 

“Whoever is drawn next pays for dinner!” he says. The room does quieten at that, and the waiter choses one of the cards and keeping it hidden from view, passes it to Kuni. 

He holds the room for a moment before announcing solemnly “Shears! You’re up!”

There’s a bubble of noise at his words from most places around the room. The exception is the mongooses who have gone quiet and are looking at each other uncertainly. However, irrepressible as always, Shears is holding his arms up in mock delight, fake grin plastered across this face. 

“I’d like to thank you all for the opportunity!” he announces. “There’s nothing I’ve wanted better all my life than to buy a bunch of hockey millionaires dinner!” 

There’s laughter around the table at that. Kuni grins back. 

“I’m delighted to have provided you with the opportunity then,” he responds. “And it was a very nice dinner too.” 

“I’m glad,” Shears replies. “I’d hate to have to pay - sweet Jesus that much? - for a sub-standard dinner for you all.” He leaves the room to go and settle the cheque to a round of applause, whistles and cheers. 

Conversation picks up around the room again, but it grinds to a halt when Sheary bounces back in, indignation in every line of him. The level of noise drops off, abruptly. 

“Who was it?” he splutters. “Who made me think I’d to pay that much and then paid themselves? All they’d say at the desk was that it was a blonde, foreign guy.” He’s staring at Hags and Horny, sat together. Hags has a slight smile upon his face; Horny is grinning broadly, but they say nothing. “C’mon guys, why did you do that?”

Horny relents and shrugs, still with a huge grin. “You didn’t deserve to be stuck with the bill, but it was fun to see your reaction when you thought you were,” he explains. “Got to look after our mongooses, make sure we’re not bankrupting them! But we’re still allowed to give you shit. You are a rookie afterall, but you’re our rookie so we’ll look after you. Sometimes.”

Shears stands there, mouth open for a moment before closing it with a snap. 

“Thanks… you really didn’t need to,” he mutters, sounding strangely subdued. “I could have done it… but thanks.” He sits down, where he’s immediately in the centre of conversation from the other mongooses around him. Justin watches them a moment longer and turns back to his part of the table, where Colesy has also been watching them. 

“They may be annoying little shits at times, but they’re our annoying little shits,” Colesy says. And really, that about sums it up. 

0--0--0

As soon as he’s back in his hotel room, he calls Olli. The sense of guilt of not letting him know he’s ok before now has been growing and he also remembers how Olli has reacted previously to the team being on a road trip. It’s only been a few hours, but Justin doesn’t want to let Olli feel like he’s being ignored and not part of the team. 

When Olli answers the Facetime call, he’s looking a little rumpled and dishevelled. 

“Crap, did I wake you?” Justin exclaims. “I should have called earlier, but I’m just back from dinner..”

“It’s ok, I fell asleep on the couch, you probably did a good thing,” Olli replies matter of factly. “Besides I wanted to hear what happened after you last spoke to me.” 

“You were right, it’s all been fine so far,” Justin replies. “Colesy was great - was more concerned about puck bucks than anything. Wanted to know if I had a boyfriend or if my hicky was from a puck buck!” 

Olli giggles; there’s no other word for it and the sound is delightful. 

“Trust Colesy,” he says fondly. “He’s one of the good ones.”

Justin nods in response. “So is Hags. He kind of hijacked me on the plane and forced me to talk about it!” 

Olli stares at him for a moment. “I thought you were going to talk about it.”

Oh. Oops. 

“Well yeah, but maybe not immediately?” he says hopefully. “I’d just wanted to chill after telling the guys and then talking about it with Colesy, but Hagy didn’t really give me the choice.” He’s aware it sounds a little bit pathetic, bit, tough, fit hockey player saying it’s too tiring to talk about feelings. 

“That’s a good thing,” Olli says firmly. “Look, I understand it was really intense for you but you’ve hidden away a lot babe, and it’s good for you to stop doing that. It might not seem like that now, but it will get easier.” 

“Yeah, I kind of know that, it’s just hard to feel it sometimes,” Justin mutters. “It’s weird to think that Hags and Colesy know. But Hags was really good as well, didn’t seem to phase him at all, and he told me that I needed to hear it didn’t matter. Said a bunch of really nice stuff about me.”

“Probably all deserved even if I bet you think he was just being nice.” Justin starts at that, that is indeed what he’d assumed about what Hags had said. Olli continues though, “Is it weird that I know?” 

Justin blinks at that, pauses but his gut reaction is the same as his thoughtful reaction. “No, of course not. It’s great that you know! Otherwise we couldn’t do...well you know… “ 

Olli grins at that. “Yeah, that ‘you know’ is great! Why are you so far away when you could be here doing ‘you know’?”

Justin laughs. “Some of us have to work for a living. But I wish I was there with you to do ‘you know’.” 

He gets back a squawk from Olli. “You have a game tomorrow! You could secure our playoff place. We’ll have plenty of time to do stuff once we’ve got our playoff spot secured.” He’s looking stern and Justin feels his face heating slightly, like he’s been caught doing something he shouldn’t have. 

“I’m not sure if you’ve been spending too much time with Sid or Sully right now. I’m not allowed to say I miss you without being told I’m not committed enough? You were the one who said I was far away!”

Olli’s face softens at that and it’s his turn to blush slightly, cheeks a delicate pink. “Oh, I miss you too. I’m sorry, didn’t mean to seem to come down so hard on you - but it will be worth it when we get the playoff spot tomorrow - you’ll see!” 

“I’m wounded! You’d better make it up to me when we get home… well actually after the Flyers’ game!”

Olli smiles. “Come back with the playoff space secured and I’m sure we can find a way to reward you!” His grin is blinding and Justin has to laugh at him and with him, but he also hopes he can do what Olli wants - he wants that reward!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> What a stressful UFA period - really didn't see Kunitz signing elsewhere. Poor Sid. I will hate to see Kunitz in another jersey =( 
> 
> (But Justin - all the money he deserved. Just wish it was longer!)


	37. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Pens try to secure their playoff place, but they've lost Flower to injury and it's a young, rookie goaltender taking the net....

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Long one - lots of hockey!

There’s a nervousness in the locker room ahead of the game against the Islanders. They want to do better in the Barclay centre than they did last time, but more importantly they don’t want to let Murs down, starting in goal for the first time instead of Flower. It’s not the first time he’s started, but it is the first time he’s started without Flower to back him up. It’s not like you’d know by his demeanour though; he showed more emotion last night when he thought he could have lost cheque roulette. But you can tell it by the number of guys who check in with him, trying to provide a subtle reassurance he doesn’t seem to need, the way the D are including him, hanging around him, sending him the message that he is theirs and they’re going to look out for him. 

It’s actually a relief to get out and get started, to be able to concentrate on the game and not who is missing in the room, and how their playoff hopes are resting on the skinny shoulders of an inexperienced rookie goalie. 

Immediately Sid’s line are bringing it, Kuni being beaten narrowly by De Haan to a puck left sitting in the crease, De Haan managing to clear it out to the boards before any of the Pens can get to it. There’s frustration along the bench, but if they keep like getting chances like that - as Justin checks the clock to see that not even a minute has passed - then it’s going to be a good game. 

However, things settle down and the Islanders defence re-group. Pens are still getting chances and they’re limiting the Isle’s chances. But then Sid’s called for slashing while trying to stop Neilsen on a breakaway and suddenly they’re switching from attacking to defence. It’s a pretty soft call, but what can they do?

Justin settles back to watch; he’d only had one shift before the Islanders had drawn the penalty and he’s not going to be on the kill so best case scenario he’s got at least another two minutes on the bench. 

It is another two minutes; the PKers do a great job, pushing back on the Islanders, not really giving them much chance to settle in the Pens’ end. Tanger flies down on the attack, short-handed, but Berube makes the save and the Islanders regroup, sending Tanger scampering back in defence again. 

Then it’s back to push, push, push on the Islanders, Justin waiting and waiting for his second shift. He finally gets the nod, but hardly gets any time on the ice before they’re called for another penalty and having to defend against the extra attacker. Fortunately, Shears strips the Islander coming into the zone of the puck, and Justin takes his seat on the bench, watching Colesy skate off to the penalty box, shaking his head in disbelief. It is another soft penalty; Sully isn’t happy with the refs for calling it and with the team for putting themselves in a position where it could be called. The team shrinks down a little on the bench, not wanting to attract Sully’s attention when he’s pissed. 

But the PK are killing it solidly again, despite a shot off the goal post early on, and they’re about halfway through when the PKers come in for a change, skating fast to clear off the ice as quickly as possible. Sunny jumps over the boards, only to find Berube clearing the puck up the ice, laying it out perfectly for Sunny to gather in, when Berube, the goalie, is out of position and suddenly Sunny’s firing it hard towards the net and it’s in and Sunny has his first ever NHL goal and it’s a shortie! The bench erupts, Sunny is celebrating at the end of the rink, grinning from ear to ear before skating past them all for a fist bump. Dales has made sure to grab the puck from the lineys, throwing it to Dana to take care of for Sunny. 

But they still have to finish the penalty and not get carried away by the goal; under Sully’s watchful eye, they stay focussed and Colesy is able to jump back onto the ice. Justin gets the nod to join him shortly after, and even seizes an opportunity to get in goal, driving to the net, but Bones just can’t get the puck through to him. 

Then, when going back on defence, Colesy gets shoved by Martin into Murray, winding up in the net behind him, dislodging it and forcing a stoppage. Justin takes one look at Colesy’s face, tight with anger and starts to skate towards him, but Colesy is getting onto his feet slowly and skating towards the bench. 

“I get called for interference for a bump and Martin gets nothing for that? What the fuck man?” Colesy is pissed as he settles onto the bench. Justin shrugs; there’s not much he can say. It’s not fair, but it’s hockey. 

In their next shift, they’re defending in their own end, and it’s getting niggly with the Isle forwards when Justin and Colesy manage to box them out giving Murs a clear view of the a shot which he stops. Justin’s forward goes quietly, but Colesy’s takes exception to the manhandling and there’s a bit of shoving after the whistle. The lineys are on it quickly, the players separated and send back to their respective benches however. 

They’re back out again quickly, taking a face-off after an offside when suddenly Justin, going back to retrieve a puck finds himself being planted face first into the boards. The breath is knocked out of him, he hadn’t seen it coming and he drops to his knees, forcing himself to take deep breaths, get the air back into his lungs, check everything is still working and get back on his skates. It seems to take forever before he’s wobbling upright again, everything apparently working, but only a couple of seconds can have passed. But it’s enough time for Colesy to have launched himself at Martin, who apparently was the one who drove Justin into the boards, cross-checking him across the check. 

“Don’t like to see your boyfriend get hurt?” taunts Martin at Colesy, “I didn’t realise it was like that!” 

The lineys are onto it quickly, skating them off towards the penalty boxes, Colesy looking daggers at Martin. 

Justin returns to the bench so they can get the 4 on 4 guys out, and their trainer is on him immediately, checking that he’s ok. He feels that he is - still a bit winded, but able to answer the trainer’s questions satisfactorily. Having been giving the go ahead to continue, he settles to watch the 4 on 4 - Phil has a great breakaway chance if he’d only been able to pick up the pass, and then Cully stick-handles his way through the D only to be stopped finally by Berube, the bench cheering him on and earning a grin of recognition from him as he skates back to it for a line change. 

And then the 4 on 4 is over and Colesy and Martin are skating back onto the ice - and drop their gloves immediately, obviously having arranged it in the box. The bench is on its feet, cheering Colesy on, but he’s outmatched by a long way - Martin fights a lot. Still he holds his own fairly well and the lineys jump in at the first sign of them tiring. Colesy skates off to the Pens banging their sticks for him, and Justin sees him sneak a small satisfied glance at the bench as Justin grins at him in thanks. 

Then the period is ending; in the aftermath of all of that, the locker room is loud. Colesy’s sat there, already stripped of his pads. Justin slides into the stall next to him. 

“Thanks man!” he says. It wasn’t just his boarding, but that was the end point of it and Colesy fought for him and he needs to acknowledge that. 

Colesy grins now, temper recovered. “No problem - I’m not going to say anytime as that fucker punches hard, but I wasn’t going to let it go anymore. Hope he hurt his hand on my shield!”

A thought strikes Justin. “It wasn’t because of what he said, was it?” 

Colesy snorts. “That’s no worse than we hear all the time and what you told me isn’t going to change that or change how I react. It wasn’t great to hear given I’d only just found out, but it was worse watching that fucker driving into you, not being able to stop him. You could have been hurt and it was a stupid senseless fucking play!”

An apprehension that had been coiling in Justin’s gut eases; he’d hoped it wasn’t so, he didn’t want anything to change because he’d told some of the team, and Colesy’s words are reassuring. 

There’s more words of appreciation coming in Colesy’s direction because he fought for all of them, he put a marker down as to how much they were willing to accept. But there’s also Sunny to be congratulated as well for his first NHL goal and he’s still grinning - even through the interview with Dan Potash. 

“I love it when someone gets their first NHL goal,” Phil says. “No pressure to do the interview on those games!” and he grins to himself delightedly. Justin grins inwardly; there are many reasons to enjoy someone’s first NHL goal - not least because you always think about your own - but getting out of interviews wasn’t one he’d thought of until now. 

As a result of all of that, the locker room is light and fun and buoyant during the intermission - although it gets a bit more serious when Sully comes in, as they wait to see how he viewed events. 

“We can’t let them get to us,” Sully says. “But Colesy, nice fight, well done. If nothing else, it puts pressure on the refs to stop giving them soft penalties while looking the other way on ours. But we’ve got to play between the whistles more and let’s see what we can do to increase our lead; let’s not get drawn in anymore. Colesy’s put a marker down for all of us, let’s use that and let’s play the right way. We’ve got this. You held them off of goal in the first, just more of the same…” And he starts to go into a bit more detail, picking up some of the errors they’d been making, things to adjust in the second period. 

0--0--0

Into the second and things have settled down a bit, the Islanders are still trying to push, but the Pens have found their head space, refusing to let themselves be distracted early in the second. Even when Tanger is slashed, and is about to fight, he obviously checks himself and the Islander isn’t keen to go, not expecting the end result of his blatant slash to be facing off to an irate French-Canadian who is willing and able and wanting to punch him. Instead they both get sent to the box, but with Kulemin getting the extra two, to put the Pens on the power play for the first time. Justin realises what the implications of Tanger getting the penalty just before he gets the touch on the shoulder sending him over to hold the blue line for the first unit alongside Dales. 

It happens quickly off a face-off which Sid wins - he drops back to cover for Dales who has taken the puck into the corner, before passing it back to Sid. Sid sets up for a one-timer drawing the Isles’ penalty killers to him, before sliding the puck across the ice, ready for Justin’s shot where space has miraculously opened up in front of him, and he blasts it into the net, past Berube, goal light coming on and Bones’ arms raising first in celebration. 

Justin blinks a bit - he hadn’t thought it would work, that the goalie would get to it, but he raises his arms, feeling the happiness bursting through him as the team skate over to him to give him the celebratory hugs. 

“Good job Schultzy!” yells Sid. They split apart, Justin leading for the fist bumps before circling back to the bench where Colesy is grinning at him. Horny is leaning on the bench watching the replay. 

“Did you get a tip to it?” Justin asks. He doesn’t want to have taken credit if it was Horny’s goal. 

Horny shrugs, “I’m not sure really. Maybe?”

Justin blushes, squirming inside that he’s tried to take credit away from Horny. They watch the replay together, but it’s really hard to tell. 

“It’s our goal,” says Horny, definitively. “You might have scored it, I might have tipped it, who knows. But without you, there was nothing to tip and it was a beautiful shot. And I may have made it harder for Berube. But what really matters is that it was scored and it was. So that’s done. Who actually scores it - who cares? We’re 2-0 up that’s what matters for sure.”

Justin nods; Horny’s right. They’ll award the goal to one or the other as they decide, but it’s their goal and they did it for the team. 

He settles down onto the bench again, sits as they announce the goal - it isn’t his officially, but he feels just as proud of it as if he had been announced as the goal scorer. 

The Islanders manage to rally after that, the play becoming more equal, both sides pushing for the next goal - but it doesn’t come. 

There’s about four minutes to go in the second when Cully gets the puck in the net off the back of a strong forecheck. Fehrsie had got his stick on the puck to break up the Isles’ break-out attempt, before getting it to Cully who fires it in from the hash marks. It came off such a low key play, that the bench don’t realise it’s in until suddenly the goal light is on; there’d been a tiny opportunity and Cully had seized it, seeing where Berube was giving him a bit of space and firing it past his head.  
.  
As they settle back down, a tiny bit of tension has eased on the bench; a three goal lead is a much better feeling than a two goal lead. Sully must pick up on it. 

“Don’t get complacent, don’t let them back in. Keep pushing out there!” 

It doesn’t help that Kuni lifts the puck out of the rink trying to clear it, taking a delay of game penalty. Sully just looks at his bench with a “I told you so” look on his face. 

Hags almost saves their asses though, using his speed to almost get a break-away and short-handed chance, but Leddy manages to stay with him and defends the attempt away. Nevertheless, he sets the tone for a PK which doesn’t give the Isles many chances, earning a nod of satisfaction from Sully. 

The period ends with an exchange of penalties; Horny gets tripped and then Daley covers the puck with his hand. He skates off, face set, looking angry at himself and nothing comes off the 4 on 4. 

Justin’s grabbed by Jen shortly after he gets to his stall and starts stripping off his pads. 

“You’ll do the interview with Dan?” she says. She phrases it like a question, but it really isn’t. He has to try at least. 

“But I did one recently!” he protests. “Surely it’s someone else’s turn?”

Jen smiles, utterly insincerely. “Yeah, but you did so well last time, we’d like you to do another one and you did set up that goal! Horny’s doing the Isles interview so that means you’re up for this one. You’ll be needed in three minutes!”

Justin hurriedly finishes stripping off his pads, finds the new Pens cap to hide his sweaty, messy hair and towels off the worst of the sweat. Just as he’s about to leave the locker room, he glances towards the goalie corner, wondering what Flower will set as his secret words…. And then his heart sinks as he remembers Flower isn’t with them and it doesn’t seem quite so much fun as usual. He’s never going to admit it to anyone, but Flower does make the interviews more fun with his ridiculous suggestions worming their way into his subconscious. 

0--0--0

Without Flower, the interview is easier however and familiarity with Dan is starting to allow Justin to relax more. He’s got nothing to fear from this; they’re 3-0 up, he set up a goal and he’s not going to be asked to defend or explain his fuck ups. His anxiety at doing media is starting to subside in the more positive circumstances he finds himself in. Jen even gives him a thumbs up when they’re done and he’s able to slip back into the room. Sully is already there, talking about the game, but he throws a nod in Justin’s direction to acknowledge his return. 

‘We know they’re going to come out hot at the start of this one - they need to score a quick one to start any kind of come back and we need to keep doing what we’ve been doing, meet their surge and keep taking away their chances. Shut them down, keep pressing as well.” He turns to Murs. “Murs, you’re doing great kid. Your rebound control has been excellent, you keep doing that and you’re giving us the platform to win from.” He turns back to the team. “ Keep doing that and we’ve got this and I know you can keep doing this. Let’s go out and close this thing out and get that playoff place!” He looks around the room, making sure to catch each player's eyes, forcing them to acknowledge what he’s said, his calm certainty filling them and focussing them and driving them back out onto the ice with renewed purpose. 

0--0--0

The Islanders are trying to surge, but the Pens put their heads down, dig in and stick to their game and the Islanders can’t get through. Precious minutes are ticking down, the team getting closer and closer to their play-off spot. They can almost feel the Islanders hopes fading, the crowd hushed, but they also know that could change in an instant and so they keep playing, lines ticking out with regularity onto the ice, keeping sharp, keeping focused. 

Kuni gets high-sticked, making sure that the referees see the incident and drawing a penalty and the power play takes to the ice. Dales is on the blue-line with Tanger, so Justin waits to see if he gets put out with the second unit. 

He gets called earlier than that, Dales coming off first for the change and Justin sliding onto the ice with the first unit still out there. 

They’re struggling to establish a rhythm though, and are regrouping after the Isles PK has forced them back when Tanger poke checks the puck away from the Isles advance, leaving the puck stationary and unguarded in centre ice where Phil picks it up, goes in alone and snaps it over Berube, who just can’t stop it. And suddenly they’re 4-0 up and there’s nine minutes left and it seems like they might just have this. 

“Ok boys, let’s think about our rookie goalie out there and play this for him now.” Sid is back at the bench. Of course he’s not going to mention a shut-out by name before the game is over, hes way too superstitious for that, but his intent is clear and by the way the guys on the bench sit a bit straighter, the team has taken getting Murs his first shut-out as an aim for the game. It would be a great confidence boost with Flower’s injury and a sign to the rest of the league that the Pens might be wounded, but they can still bring it, especially given the Islanders are also fighting for a playoff place. 

So they settle down and keep working, not letting up, trying to stay tight on defence. Isles get a couple of shots off, but Murs stays sharp, despite the limited traffic he’s been getting and he’s letting nothing rebound unless he wants to direct it to a Pen, and tracking pucks apparently easily through traffic in front of the net. 

Justin’s out behind Cully’s line and they’re still forechecking like demons, Cully forcing a turnover and getting the puck out to Fehrsie. Fehrsie fights off an Islander, gets control off the puck and drops it safely back to Justin. Fehrsie’s battle has pulled the defence out of position, so Justin tries a shot on goal, only to have Berube pad it aside easily - straight into the path of Cully sharking close to the net. He’s quickly tied up by a defenceman, the puck squirting free across the crease - where Tommy pounces on it, knocking it past a Berube still sprawled out on the ice. 5-0 up with less than five minutes to play! They’ve absolutely got this and the hugs are more about a job well done than joy at another goal, although Tommy is grinning ear to ear. Justin’s shoulders are back, head held high as his second point for the game is announced. It’s his first multi point game since joining the Pens - in fact he can’t remember the last time he had one. Maybe Christmas?

Back on the bench, word is being passed down. 

“Nothing gets through!”

Sid’s jaw is set and Tanger’s passing the word to the defencemen, eyes determined and hard - they are going to give their all to preserve the shut-out for Murs. They’ve got five minutes to hold out and the Islanders are now fighting to stop the shut-out on their home ice. It’s likely going to get nasty. 

Given they’ve got such a comfortable lead, it’s real desperation hockey now. Shears gets a great chance, battling his way up the boards, but Berube bats it aside, the Islanders regrouping fast to get up ice again, Pens battling back in the neutral zone to send it back into the Islanders end again. 

And somehow the Pens hold on, not even giving the desperate Islanders many chances, keeping the puck out of their own end. Eventually, the frustration boils over, with less than a minute to go, after Lovejoy and Hickey tangle on the near boards and a scrum develops. The guys on the bench are on their feet standing as the linesmen and referees move in, trying to sort it out. At the end of it, two of the Isles fourth lines are off, Martin jawing his way all the way off the ice, with Fehrsie, Benjy and Dumo all going off for the Pens, leaving the Pens on the PK for the last 30 seconds of the game. In some ways it’s helpful, they can kill time by sending the puck down the ice, but they still need to kill it. 

And they do, Sonny and Sunshine sending the puck down the ice off a face-off win, eating up time and not giving the Islanders time for set up properly. The buzzer sounds and the bench are on their feet instantly, skating over to Murs to congratulate him for his first NHL shut-out… the one which guarantees them a play-off place!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Justin Schultz's Stanley Cup day today! :D


	38. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They've qualified for the play-offs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Oh dear, I promised you hockey this chapter. But this became a bit of a fixit chapter, as with the benefit of time, I wasn't entirely happy about how I'd left Justin's coming out. So more feelings instead!

The journey home is amazing. Justin can feel the knowledge that he’s going to the playoffs fizzing under his skin, wonder and awe and excitement combined. The only thing that would make it better is if Olli was here to share it with him, but the rest of the team are and they’re mostly equally as excited as Justin feels. Sid is more contained, but watches them indulgently, alongside Tanger who shakes his head in mock disbelief, but even he can’t hide his satisfaction completely, stretched out in the seat next to Sid. Geno even calls and Sid puts him on speaker so they can hear his voice congratulating them all, English worse than ever in his excitement. Eventually Sid takes back his phone and they try to ignore his soppy grin and blushing as he mutters down the phone to Geno, trying not to be overheard. At the few muttered words they do overhear, looks of resignation are exchanged and by mutual consent, the team move further up the plane away from them as they really don't want to hear something that sounds very like one-sided telephone sex from their captain.

Kuni purses his lips disapprovingly. “Is it really too much for them to wait an hour?” His tone is despairing. 

“Rabbits”, says Horny cryptically, with a sigh, signalling to be dealt into the poker game. 

“And unlike the rest of us, they haven't had to learn to cope with the separation of road games,” says Tanger. Even he has deserted Sid for now. “Besides, Geno is always hot for Sid’s hockey. And it's not like Sid will be happy about this but Geno does like to push boundaries. Hence this!” And he rolls his eyes as he gestures at the team crammed together into a much smaller portion of the plane than they’d usually be. 

“Oh I know all that,” replies Kuni. “And rather this than the unresolved sexual tension we endured for years. But I still don't want to have to listen into Sid trying unsuccessfully to stop Geno having phone sex!” 

“Don't you think Geno knows that too?” Tanger shrugs and the way the team’s shoulders slump, they recognise the truth in Tanger’s words. Geno’s trolling them remotely.

It probably makes Justin a bad person but he wishes he could call Olli like that. 

0--0--0

Thanks to the earlier game, it’s not too late when they get back to Pittsburgh, but it’s not early either. For once, the team lingers in the car park, seemingly unwilling to separate and come down from the joy of securing their playoff place together. But they can’t go out with an afternoon home game tomorrow; Shears and Murs have already secured a promise that they’ll go out after the Flyers game to celebrate, the only chance before the final road trip of the regular season. But eventually, they start to split up again, knowing they’ll be back at it all too soon tomorrow.

Justin has to remember to drive to Olli’s apartment, and not to his hotel, which isn’t his hotel anymore. He hopes the move went ok; Olli hasn't said otherwise. 

But his new key is waiting for him at the building’s reception, with a note in Olli’s curly hand-writing. 

_CALL WHENEVER YOU GET IN_

The whenever is underlined for extra emphasis, like Olli was worried Justin would ignore it, decide it was too late to call. It is late, but Justin wants to see him anyway, reassure himself that it wasn’t just a passing thing, what happened between them, gone when they were separated. He knows his fears are stupid, tries to tell him that even if that comes to pass, they hadn’t agreed to anything serious, but he also doesn’t want it to be over that quickly. 

He lets himself into his new apartment, doing a quick tour. His bags are lined up neatly against the wall, waiting to be unpacked, but the stuff in boxes has been unpacked, spread around his apartment to make it look lived in. On the coffee table, there’s a slim package, wrapped in silvery white paper and tied with a dark blue ribbon, forming an off-centre cross across the package. He slips the ribbon off, pulls the paper off and there’s a slender blue book in his hands with a picture of white hippos on the cover. ‘ _Finn Family Moomintroll_ is emblazoned across the cover and he opens the cover to find Olli’s written on the front page. 

_All homes need a copy of this. Happy house-warming!_  
Your friend  
Olli 

He stares at it for a moment, running his finger across the message, throat caught at the salutation. So safe. He can almost picture Olli hesitating, trying to come up with something that covers their current situation, doesn't promise or state things beyond where they are now and is safe for others to see. That he came up with something that said anything is pretty miraculous. Justin knows he’d probably have given up and just signed it ‘from’. And he's working in his native language! 

He grabs his phone and calls Olli; it's not too late anyway, the team was efficient and the flight ran fairly on time. 

“Hey honey, I'm home!” He sings it down the phone when Olli answers. There’s a responding snort from Olli. 

“I’ll be right there,” is all he says in response though, and then the line is disconnected. Justin looks at the phone, eyebrows raised. That was very definitive. But then he grins, because to be honest, of course he wants to see Olli. 

So quickly his doorbell - he has a doorbell! - is being rung and he goes to open it. Olli is standing there, grinning. 

“Play-offs!” is all he says and Justin grins in response, feels the exultation that he, Justin Schultz, bad hockey player, is actually going to play in the play-offs 

There’s an awkward hesitation for a moment, like neither of them quite know what to do next, this being too new to have established a greeting protocol, what is acceptable and what isn't. And then Olli steps into him and kisses him, softly, gently, and it's good and feels right so he smiles some more and kisses Olli back. They stay like that for a long moment and then Olli breaks the kiss. 

“Well done you!” He murmurs it against Justin's lips and then pulls further away, pulling back. “Are you hungry? I brought the last of your food from Cranberry if you are; it’s in your freezer. I also got you some basics just to tide you over and I thought you wouldn’t mind me unpacking some of your stuff, but I didn’t want to go through your cases.” 

“No, they fed us on the plane, but thanks, you didn’t need to do that!” 

Olli smiles in response, dimples showing. “Yeah, but I wanted to.”

“Oh and thanks for the book too! Maybe now I’ll understand the fascination with white hippos.”

Olli rolls his eyes, looking pained. “Moomins.. They’re called Moomins. Hence Finn Family Moomintroll.”

Justin grins at him, then wanders into the kitchen, looking to see if Olli’s basic supplies included anything like coffee fixings and also to see what he has to make coffee with. Fortunately he has both makings and maker and having waved a mug at Olli and getting a nod in response he starts to make some. He has to fight Olli off; apparently Olli believes that because he had a game earlier he’s incapable of making coffee, but with all Olli has done for him over the flat, he’s not going to leave him to make the coffee as well. Olli eventually concedes, with poor grace, although the grin he flashes when the mug is handed to him is genuine. They move through to the living room and Justin gets to sink down onto his all too inviting sofa. The day is really starting to catch up with him. 

“Did you speak to the guys about coming out to them?” Olli settles onto the sofa. Justin’s all too aware of him leaning in and really, there’s always space for Olli at his side, so he adjusts a little, and sure enough, Olli slides right into place, nestling into him. 

Justin lets his head thump back onto the sofa with a sigh. “What a fuck up of a day!” He finds himself laughing, a little bitterly. “On my to do list for the day was qualifying for the playoffs, not outing myself to the team! But yeah I spoke with Colesy and Hags and they were both really good, told me it didn't matter and they'd respect what I want. All Colesy could talk about was puck bucks for fucks sake!” He scrubs his hand across his face, feels Olli’s hand circling comfortingly on his leg. 

“Justin, talk to me,” says Olli. “This is still getting to you isn't it?”

Justin pauses for a moment, trying to understand what he's feeling; with all the ups and downs of the day, he's not sure how he's feeling. But he can try to tell Olli and maybe that’ll help him understand. 

“I guess I thought - or really I'm not sure I ever really thought about it - but believed that if people in the NHL ever found out I was gay, that would be it. Sure you know some guys in college or juniors who are gay, but you never hear of it in the NHL, and even in the other leagues it's kept very low key.”

“I mean there was a situation in Edmonton with some of the guys but it was never acknowledged, never spoken of publicly and the people involved were protected because they’d never be traded, so no-one really wanted to go too far into what was going on.”

Olli is nodding along, not saying anything but he knows Olli's attention is entirely on him. 

“So I kept it quiet, kept it hidden and secret and just put up with it. Not a big deal I thought, not if I was getting to play in the NHL. Then I come here and it's all so different. Sure it's still on the quiet outside the team but you have rules about when Sid and Geno can kiss in front of you, meaning they can and no-one bats an eyelid. And Geno just jokes continually about having sex and today he was trying to have phone sex with Sid on the plane in front of everyone and even the folks telling him not to do that are saying it because no-one wants to know what their friends and team-mates are doing in bed, anymore than they want Kuni to be talking about his sex life, not that it's two guys going at it.” He pauses takes a sip of coffee but Olli waves him to continue so he does. 

“And then I come out and say it without even thinking about it - a part of myself that I've felt like I've always had to hide and keep secret in the NHL and the guys I say it to just kind of shrug and go ‘that's fine, no big deal buddy’. And I've always thought it would be a big deal - a huge deal - and it wasn't!” His voice cracks embarrassingly and he knows he's getting emotional about it as he realises why this is so difficult for him. 

“If it isn’t a big deal, why have I been hiding it? And if it is a big deal, why isn’t it a big deal here and why aren’t more places like here? It’s not a big deal here - look at us, we’ve just qualified for the fucking playoffs again, the fact that Sid and Geno are fucking is obviously not affecting the team’s ability to play.” He runs his fingers through his hair, trying to distract himself from the lump in his throat and the tears starting to gather. 

Olli makes a noise of sympathy, hand tightening on his leg. 

“I don’t know if it helps or not, but unfortunately, I think it still is a big deal on some teams,” he says softly. “It’s not here. Whether that’s because Mario genuinely doesn’t care or realised that if his two best players are gay then the team had better learn to live with it because he values hockey over worrying about what his hockey players are doing in their private lives, I really don’t know. With Mario, it could be either or both. But regardless, at least here, it’s not a big deal and that is exactly how it should be everywhere - but I don’t think it is yet, even though it’s so fucking unfair, and you’re right, it should be. So I don’t know, you might have done the right thing by not saying anything in Edmonton. You’d have a better idea of that than me.”

“And you didn’t and you don’t have to keep it secret, but it’s still your choice whether you do or not. It took me a while to say anything too, even knowing about Sid and Geno. I was young, I didn’t want to rock the boat. When I did, I got a lecture from Sid about safe sex, I got a lecture from Geno about not going to Pittsburgh gay bars unless I’d cleared them with him first, and that I wasn’t to go out in strange cities without letting someone else know and that was about it…”

“Wait - hang on.. You got a lecture from Sid on safe sex?!” Justin just cannot imagine that. Really his mind is stuttering at that, given.. well, Sid, generally. 

“Oh god, it was awful,” Olli says laughing a bit. “Honestly, even with the cancer news, that might have been the worst moment of my life. Or the funniest. I’m still not sure which. Sid was mortified, but determined to go through with it as my captain - it seemed he felt responsible somehow because he wasn’t sure it would have been covered when I was playing juniors in the US. He’d got all these leaflets for me!”

“Leaflets?”

Olli just shakes his head. “Really don’t. Please let me forget. It was Sid being Sid, trying to do right by his team mates and look after the young players. I couldn’t bring myself to tell him it was covered in Finnish schools for both gays and straights before I even arrived in the US.”

“If he finds out, will he do the same to me?” Justin asks with horror. Olli laughs, glimmer of mischief in his eyes. 

“It would seem fair after my ordeal! But I think he’ll think you’re old enough to know better. I was 19 and just a kid!”

Justin glances at him, refrains from saying anything about him now being only 21. “Well, that’s a small mercy.”

“Would you tell him?” Olli asks. “Like before you didn’t want anyone else to know. Would you consider it?”

Justin thinks, trying see how he feels about. “Maybe? The idea of having all the guys knowing doesn’t make my skin crawl, like it used to. But I still think I need to think about that some more, get used to the idea that I could be out. And I still need to talk to Tanger,” he finishes glumly. 

Olli nods, then leans into him and kisses him. “Ok,” he says. “Take your time thinking about it.”

Time may not be something Justin has the luxury of - even if getting their play-off place has given him at least a couple more weeks with the team.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note added: Bonus points to you if you noticed what Olli had wrapped the book as... Justin didn't. Justin needs to brush up on his flags! ;)


	39. Pussy cats or lions?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin screws all his courage together and goes to talk to Tanger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm a wee bit ahead in my writing, so have the next chapter a few days early... I've been writing to a daily quota (and meeting it so I've built up some buffer). I could have done one super long chapter, but decided to split into two... 
> 
> Hockey next time, for sure!

The team is a bit put out and grumbly at the quickness of the turnaround between the Islanders game last night and the Flyers game this afternoon - it feels like the last 24 hours has been nothing but hockey. In the locker room, the feeling of disgruntlement is thick in the air. 

“Why couldn’t the baseball have changed their start time? Why did we have to be the ones to start earlier?” Shears is grousing to Tommy as he pulls his pads on, settling them into place with a shake, but loudly enough most of the locker room hears. 

“But it does give us more time to go out after the game?” replies Tommy. Sheary pauses; that obviously hadn’t occurred to him. 

“Oh, great point!” he exclaims, face becoming a lot less disgruntled and a lot more excited. “More celebration time!”

“I know tomorrow is an off day, but we still need to be fit for travel,” says Kuni. “The plane will be really unpleasant if you’re all deeply hungover.”

“Oh I don’t get hangovers!” says Shear aerily; there’s a smothered angsty groan from somewhere in the locker room; Justin thinks maybe from Phil. 

“We’ll remember that when you turn up tomorrow wearing dark glasses and drinking water,” says Hags. “And we will gloat. And you will remember us gloating as you get older and your hangovers get worse.” 

Shears pointedly ignores him and continues,”How often do we get to celebrate getting to the play-offs?”

“Every year so far,” mutters Tanger, although somehow his mutter is projected across the room. Shears pulls a face at him. 

“Well for some of us, it’s still a big deal. It’s our first time and all!”

“So long as we remember that getting to the playoffs is not the achievement, it’s just a step on the path,” replies Sid. “We need to do it, but there’s a lot more hockey to be played, we need to keep pushing to secure home ice.”

There’s a kind of sigh around the room at that; even though he’s only telling them what they know, to hear it said like that is a reminder that although they thought they might have summited, the clouds have just parted and there’s a whole mountain range still ahead of them. 

“We’re still celebrating,” says Shears determinately. “If we can’t celebrate the successes when we have them, when can we do it?”

“He’s got a point,” says Horny. “The day qualifying for the playoffs isn’t a cause for celebration is the day I admit I’ve become an over privileged pampered hockey player.”

There are a number of head nods around the room, and Sid watches them, then shrugs and turns back to his kit, but he has a smile on his face as he does so. 

It’s into that atmosphere that Olli walks, carrying the gold practice jersey of the untouchable. He’s smiling as he makes his way to his stall, starting to put on his pads. The locker room quietens down as people stop to watch him. 

“Are you joining us, Olli?” Sid asks. 

Olli turns to face him and nods. “No contact, but I’m cleared to skate with you guys - well at least while you’re here in Pittsburgh. Which isn’t much, but at least I can skate with you today!”

There’s some whoops around the locker room, shouted congratulations. Tanger leans over to pat Olli on the shoulder; Justin flashes him a big wide grin. Just like that the mood in the locker room is lifted even more and it’s with a lot of enthusiasm that the team finish getting their equipment on and get out onto the ice. 

0--0--0

With some trepidation, Justin grabs Tanger after morning skate. He knows it shouldn’t be a problem, but something is giving him pause. But he also needs to do this.

Tanger joins him in the players’ lounge, picking up a protein shake, a Gatorade and a coffee for post skate rehydration. 

“Everything ok?” Tanger asks softly as he settles in the seat next to Justin. 

“It’s good thanks,” Justin replies. They make pleasantries for a few minutes; Tanger tells him Alex’s latest doings, but through it all, Justin can feel the dread of having to have this conversation weighing on him. Eventually, he just has to get into it, or it will become a bigger and bigger weight pressing on him. 

“I wanted to speak to you about what I told you on Friday about me liking guys,” Justin starts, feels his face starting to heat up. Fuck, Justin is finding this is so uncomfortable. Tanger glances at him, sips his coffee and makes a ‘go on’ motion. “I’m sorry to have dumped it on you like that; I didn’t really plan on telling anyone on the team. And that’s really why I wanted to talk to you about it - I’d… I’d rather it didn’t become common knowledge.”

Tanger’s eyes are fixed on Justin’s face; it’s pretty unnerving to be the focus of that intense scrutiny. 

“Well firstly, don’t feel like you dumped it on me, anymore than I dumped the fact that I’m married to a woman on you,” replies Tanger. His tone is considering, conversational even. “You may not have intended to say anything - and that’s your choice and I’ll respect that - but you talk like it’s a burden for me to know and it isn’t.” He grins crookedly. “It’s more of a privilege, given what the league can be like, but then if you didn’t intend to say anything, then a pretty accidental one. But I’m hoping you are not regretting it, either telling me in particular or the guys in general.” He looks quizzically at Justin. 

“For sure, it’s not the way I would have wanted to tell anyone and I wasn’t planning on telling anyone anytime soon.” Justin can’t help but be honest about that, he knows he’s a really bad liar. “But, since I have, I don’t see how anyone could have responded any better. The guys have been great.”

Tanger looks relieved. “You should know you have my support on this - and my discretion. And, while I may not be an A, I am the person who knows and who has most seniority on the team. And usually seniority is bullshit, but sometimes it isn’t and it’s useful. So if anyone on the team or the staff gives you any kind of shit about this, anyone or anything at all, you will tell me and I will make them sorry for doing so. I will not have one my d-men worrying about this, fearful of what anyone else will say and I will not accept anyone treating you with a lack of respect. You are here, you are one of us, you are one of my D and that’s all that is important so far as I am concerned.” 

Tanger takes another sip of coffee. For all his tone is calm - but emphatic - he’s got the look in his eyes Justin only usually sees on ice, when he’s mentally preparing himself for a game - focussed intensity, with just a hint of battle madness thrown in. Justin gets the feeling Tanger might even enjoy breaking heads, metaphorically or actually about this, wonders if he had not been allowed to be as protective as wanted to be in the past, with Sid and Geno. 

Justin has to look away though - to hear that from anyone about anything, after all that happened in Edmonton, is a lot to take in. To hear it from their star defenceman, a guy who is so far above Justin in hockey ability as to be dizzying is just ridiculous. To hear that Tanger considers Justin one of his is just amazing. 

“What did I say?” Tanger’s voice is concerned now. “What caused you to look like that?”

Justin swallows around the lump that has sprung up in his throat. “Oh it’s not really much - just sometimes the differences between here and Edmonton are really big. And I’m grateful for that.” But he pulls himself together, says a bit more severely. “But I don’t want you causing difficulties with the team or the staff because of me.”

“Oh it won’t be because of you,” Tanger reassures him. “It’ll be because of some asshole who is unable or unwilling or too narrow-minded to accept you. Not your fault at all, you’re just getting on with your life without harming others. But it probably won’t happen, both because we’ve knocked most of that out of the team and the organisation and particularly not because you weren’t intending on telling anyone else.”

He takes another mouthful of coffee, pauses reflectively. “Still, I wish we were playing Edmonton once more this season. That game would have been so much fun…” and he trails off, wistfully. 

“What do you mean?” asks Justin suspiciously. 

“Well, what you said before about the differences. It would have been great for them to see how much better you’re playing for us than for them - good for you and great for them,” and he says the last part with enough of a snarling edge that Justin’s jaw drops open a little. “Nothing like rubbing their faces in their mistakes, and trust me, we would have taken every opportunity to show them what you can do. And also, just to show them how much we value you and how much our team you are now.”

Justin’s kind of amazed at the vindictive edge Tanger is displaying. It’s hard to believe it’s being displayed solely on Justin’s behalf, but there can be no other reason. He rubs his face with his hand. 

“Probably as well we aren’t then,” he says wryly. He’s not sure how he’d feel caught between his old team and his new. Just that it would be difficult, old and new allegiances and understandings. 

“Always next season,” says Tanger easily and then closes his mouth quickly, realising what he’s just said. Justin shrugs. It’s not something he finds painful; nerve-wracking yes, but not painful. But in his heart of hearts, he knows what he’s doing here is helping rebuild his chances of getting signed someplace next year and even if it’s not here, that’s still a good thing. 

“Hopefully,” he replies easily. “They told me at the outset no guarantees so I know where I stand. But I’m enjoying being on the team, it’s been great so far. Even before this… it’s just been great how welcoming everyone has been. So hopefully, next year.”

Tanger smiles at that. “Good. You’ve fitted in really well. But just one thing though,” he says, smile fading a little. “And I say this to you because I like you, and you’re a great guy and I’m sure you wouldn’t do anything to hurt anyone deliberately. But we had a situation previously - I’m not going into the ins and outs of it - where someone got hurt badly because of carelessness, a thoughtlessness, even maybe some cruelty on the part of a team mate. I’m pretty sure you wouldn’t be deliberately cruel, but it’s easy to get caught up and not realise the effect your actions are having on others. So all I’ll do is ask that since I have said I will step in if you are not respected by anyone, that you show that same care and consideration to others on the team?” 

In a conversation of emotional direction changes, Justin couldn’t have foreseen this and is caught flat-footed for a moment, not sure what’s led Tanger to say this, to him. But then he remembers Olli talking about a past relationship on the team and how it had ended badly and the pain on Olli’s face. He’s not sure if that’s what’s Tanger is talking about although it wouldn’t surprise him to find out it is, given Tanger’s protectiveness towards Olli. 

“I hope I wouldn’t be that guy,” he says. “I don’t want to ever be that guy and if you think I’m being that guy, I’d want you to tell me, so I could make it right.” He keeps it simple and honest. He doesn’t want to be a careless, inconsiderate asshole and he’d rather know if he is, before he messes up anyone else. 

Tanger looks at him for a long moment and then nods. 

“Ok, I guess that’s all we can ask of each other,” he says. He glances at the clock, Justin’s eyes follow it too and he’s surprised at how long they’ve been talking. Tanger grins ruefully. “Yeah I hadn’t realised either. But, hey, I’m glad we were able to talk about this - and don’t forget what I said. If you have any trouble, come to me! Now, I need to head home before the game.”

He stands up and they exchange farewells. There’s been a lot to take in, but Justin feels good about it. He feels like he’s got a much better understanding of Tanger, that an awkwardness which he’d felt building has been wiped away. He’d known Tanger would likely be accepting; he hadn’t expected his fierce protectiveness of Justin, but then he thinks back to Hags’ description of Tanger as a fierce, loyal, protective pussy cat and suddenly he can see it. Well, maybe not the pussy cat aspect, Tanger is more like a lion or a leopard or something, but he’s seen the fierce loyalty and protectiveness displayed to him now. 

Knowing Tanger has his back - that makes him feel good. Tanger having your back is no little thing in the Penguins.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So the stuff about the Sheary not getting hangover might have been written when I was suffering one and reflecting on how they do get worse as you get older. Nothing like a young hockey player boasting about how he doesn't get hangovers to the older guys on the team... 
> 
> There were several ways the Tanger discussion could have gone, and there was a bit of speculation in the comments. But what made it go this way was the realisation that although Tanger is protective of Olli, he's just as protective of Justin because as he said, he also sees Justin as one of his, so he's a wee bit conflicted. We haven't seen the last of protective!Tanger though. 
> 
> And we get Sheary and Dumo back!!! (we knew we would but nice for them to be affordable).


	40. Bringing the Flyers to earth

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Occasionally, hockey gets played. This would be one of those times.

All too soon, it feels like it’s game time. It’s fan appreciation night, so the building is rocking; the Flyers are in the building, battling for their own playoff place and riding their own hot streak. 

All of that is nothing to Sully. 

“Don’t think you can slack off now, relax because you’ve won your play-off place. Now is the time to keep pushing, we want home ice advantage. We don’t step back just because we’re in the play-offs. We keep on showing the rest of the league what we can do - we keep on playing to the standard we know we can play at. I want you battling for every puck out there. Let’s get this done; let’s do it for the fans tonight.”

There’s whoops and applause around the room, then Fehrsie’s reading the starting line-up and suddenly they’re out on the ice and after anthems, the game is starting. 

Sid’s line is pushing immediately, Horny battling at the net after the Flyers don’t clear the puck, but somehow Mason, the goalie gets to it. There’s a groan from the bench, because how did he stop Horny, but somehow he does, but the Penguins are undeterred, giving the Flyers no space, not letting them settle on the puck or get any time. All the Pens are playing hard and fast, no line holding back and Justin as he throws himself into the maelstrom, is determined not to be the guy who lets them down, who holds them back. 

He gets a chance quickly, Tanger breaking the puck up the ice to Shears who charges in and finds Justin charging the net as the trailer, unremarked and unmarked. His backhand is stopped by Mason sliding across though, scooping it up carefully and allowing no rebound. 

As he flies around the back of the net, he grips his stick tightly, trying to let out the frustration of the failed attempt as he skates back for the face-off. So close though!

He’s re-established his equilibrium, but the Flyers win the face-off and break up ice, Justin and Colesy trying to shut down the forwards, but the whistle blows for something happening behind Justin and when Justin turns, Colesy has his ‘what did I do?’ innocent look which usually means he’s guilty as sin. There’s some jawing from the Flyers at him, but the lineys are all over it as Colesy skates to the box and Justin returns to the bench. 

The Flyers power play is dangerous, but the penalty killers settle in and do a good job. 

“Giroux’s ignoring us now!” exclaims Tommy as he returns to the bench after the power play. “We need another insult.” 

All mongoose eyes turn to Tanger as he’s going over the boards. 

“No!” is all he exclaims, shaking his head as he pushes off. 

“Who else is Canadian?” asks Shears. “Aren’t they all bilingual?”

There’s a lot of glances up and down the bench from the Canadians who hear that. 

“What do they teach these American kids in school?” wonders Fehrsie aloud. “While Canada has two official languages, most Canadians are only fluent in one. Most of us don’t speak good enough French to be able to chirp Giroux in it. It’s why most of us - except Tanger - stick to English. Except for the Nova Scotians who can barely manage any language, they’re just weird.”

Sid shoots him a look as he settles down on the bench again, shift over. 

“A Manitoban calling a Nova Scotia weird. I’ve heard it all now,” he says. 

Fehrsie grins. “At least I’m not from Saskatchewan!”

“Fuck off.” Kuni stares at Fehrsie. "You'd be lucky to be from Saskatchewan."

Justin gets the call to go over the boards though, so doesn’t hear how that argument gets resolved, pushing off strongly and joining the battle behind the 4th line again. Besides he’s from BC, and everyone knows that’s the best province to be from. 

His shift is short as the puck goes out of play, but by the time he’s back the conversation has moved on, mongoose quest and Canadian chirping forgotten. The Flyers are trying to tie down the Pens, with neither side getting much of a look at goal as a result. It’s kind of a stalemate although the Pens are still largely outplaying the Flyers. Tommy blocks two shots in quick succession and somehow makes it back to the bench, where the trainer is straight there as he swears quietly to himself, eyes furrowed with pain. But it’s not a game-leaving injury, he’s just riding out the pain until he can move again. 

“More bruises,” he groans on the bench. Justin feels sympathy - Tommy’s already pretty badly bruised from all the shot blocking he does, and it seems like those would be bruises on top of his existing bruises. 

It takes Sid to actually get another shot on goal with most of the period gone, but immediately after he’s pulled down by Simmonds, drawing a penalty. 

They’re able to set up off a face-off win, passing it between the power play with relative ease until Sid picks up a rebound off a save on Phil’s shot, beating the defence and chopping it past Mason to give them the lead. 

The Pens are re-energised and they’ve brought the crowd right back into it, such that they can feel the energy coming off it when Justin’s out on the ice, crowd raucous and supportive. He’s out behind the fourth line again, as those players were not involved in the power play. They’re looking to start the break-out from their own end, when the puck squirts out unexpectedly into his path. 

He gathers it to him, and, looking up ice, he can see Shears far ahead of him, so he banks the puck off the glass safely to him, putting Shears accelerating into the zone with just the two Flyers defence to beat. Shears somehow holds the defence off, one guy draped all over him, and passes off to Beau, who is charging on the net from the left wing and with acres of empty net in front of him to hit easily. Beau raises his hands in celebration, looking absolutely ecstatic and Justin speeds up from where he was trailing last man back to skate hard into the huddle. 

“Good goal Beau!” he shouts. 

“Great pass Schultzy!” Shears exclaims back at him as they unfold to go do fist bumps. In two minutes, they’ve scored two goals and the team is riding high going into the first intermission. 

There’s a lot of teasing of Murs back in the room as they’d also limited the Flyers’ attack so much, cocooning the goal against them so that Murs has had very few to stop. 

He takes it all in his stride, but eventually has to point out “you know there are two more periods to go? You only get to give me this amount of grief if you manage to keep them from doing that throughout the game, not just for one period!” 

He has a point, thinks Justin. It’s been going as they hoped, but the Flyers will try to adjust, they won’t sit back and let the Pens keep dominating them. 

Sully agrees. 

“You’ve done a good job making them play the way we want to play. You haven’t let up, you’ve shown you’re still hungry. That’s good - now we need to build on that and take this game over. Get out there and do that!”

0--0--0

“I can’t believe Murs wouldn’t let me text Flower during the intermission to get some more chirps for Giroux,” mutters Shears as he settles down on the bench. “I tried messaging him but he didn’t answer.”

Cully sighs, looks along the bench. “Shears, enough. Worry more about the game, less about the chirping.” It’s all he says, but when Shears goes to argue he just looks at Shears and Shears closes his mouth with an audible snap. 

“Sorry Cully,” is all he says, looking down at his feet. 

Justin blinks a little at that; he’d thought the mongooses were irrepressible, but apparently not. Cully’s parenting skills work on them as well as his own kids. 

The Penguins are immediately on the attack when the puck drops at the start of the second, but Mason keeps calm and the Pens aren’t able to beat him again. 

Justin jumps onto the ice for his first shift, on a full change going out behind Cully’s line and immediately they’re defending from a Flyer probe. Justin gets the puck safely around to Colesy, who is able to get it to Tommy, breaking out the zone fast with the rest of the Pen forwards. Justin gets his own feet moving, following them hard up the right wing, glancing back to check that Colesy is trailing in place and seeing he’s now third man, ahead of Tommy - so Justin puts his head down and charges the zone, seeing Fehrsie pulling up and looking for passing options. 

Justin waves his stick to let Fehrsie know he’s there and available - the Flyers have focussed on the threat on the left wing and he’s got a clear lane to the net. Fehrsie flips a little saucer pass perfectly onto Justin’s stick and then he’s pushing to the net and shooting...only to feel the disappointment cutting sharp as Mason safely gathers it up. If only he’d elevated it more, he might have had more chance and he’s kicking himself mentally for not doing something better than his pathetic little shot at the end of a great move. He’d love to get off the ice now, feeling stupid at not being able to do something better, but they stay out behind the fourth line who are really hustling today and almost immediately Sonny has a great shot on goal, which Mason again fends off. 

Justin gets off the ice shortly after, shaking his head at his lack of finish. But his coach seems happier with the move than Justin does, and Sully leans over to give him a pat on the shoulder. Justin’s still frustrated he couldn’t finish it, but he has to let it go and move on, keep playing, not get dragged down into thinking about what might have been. 

It gets worse though - he’s lined up for a slap shot in later in the period when they have the Flyers penned up again in their own end, only to have the stick break as he takes the shot, meaning it flutters towards the net with all the pace of an anaemic, arthritic, grandmother, which Mason pads off easily. 

It seems his bad luck is catching - Phil bats one out of mid-air and Mason stops it on his pads again and the team is starting to wonder how and if they are going to get another one past Mason. 

The game is also ramping up physically and if Justin’s honest, it’s not all from the Flyers side, as he watches Kuni crosscheck a Flyer repeatedly next to the Pens goal. Not that surprisingly, the Flyer takes exception to it as the whistle blows due to the puck going out of play, but the lineys are there to send the players on their way and more surprisingly, Kuni doesn’t get a penalty. Justin’s sure everyone on the ice has taken note of where the line is tonight. Kuni flashes a smug grin at the Flyers bench as he skates by. 

They’re more than halfway through the second when the Pens are once again keeping the Flyers penned in their own zone, Sid’s line out and working hard, forechecking strongly, when the puck comes loose out of battle and slides straight into Horny’s path. He picks it up, dances across the goal looking for an opportunity… and then the goal light is flashing and the horn is blaring and Horny’s hands are raised high in celebration and suddenly they are 3-0 up on the Flyers. 

Despite the team success, Justin’s own game isn’t getting any better. He gets another good opportunity on his first shift after the goal, when he joins the rush and Shears passes to him as the latecomer again, but again, Mason somehow gets across to get to his much better shot, and then he’s going back quickly as the Flyers press forward, but the Pens manage to disrupt the play and get the puck back up ice, Justin sliding back to the bench to let Dumo and Rev on. He’s shaking his head as he sits down on the bench, feeling frustrated that he’s getting good looks and just can’t do anything with them. He tries to remind himself that hockey is sometimes like that, that’s he got an assist on the first goal, but, it’s hard. But the game is carrying on, so he tries to simply focus on the here and the now. 

It’s getting hot on the ice. The Flyers are starting to play with an edge of desperation now, trying to get the next goal, to start to try to claw back into the game. The plays are getting dirtier, with the refs apparently not caring; Justin ends up having to kick the puck out from behind Murs’ net, so badly is his stick being held by the opposing Flyer, but somehow, they still get the puck out their own end and Cully’s line is charging up ice with it. There’s no penalty of course - it feels like someone could pretty much get murdered out on the ice and there’d be no penalty. The Pens are starting to quietly fume - well except Tanger who is already way beyond simmering rage after an elbow to his head by Simmonds goes uncalled. 

Things stay contained at least until the last minute of the second when Simmonds shoots the puck between Dumo and Rev to break the Flyers shut-out. The sound of cursing echoes up and down the bench, but it’s Cully who sums it up. 

“We’ve still got this; they feel like now they have a chance, we just need to turn up the pressure in the third to show them they don’t.”

0--0--0

The third starts fast and furious, Flyers pushing hard and Pens pushing right back at them. But it’s the Pens who get on the board first, Tanger keeping the puck alive on the blue line, to loft a shot on goal where Bones is standing watchful in front of net, trying to block Mason. It doesn’t work, but Bones redirects it towards Hags who dives on it from where he’s been lurking behind the net, going his length to reach it, but shooting it past Mason, hair flying. It’s a real ‘how the hell did that work?’ moment but no-one can argue with that magic called chemistry and Bones’ line has struck again. 

Still, the Flyers haven’t given up and they close the gap again to two goals, some four minutes later, with somehow Voracek freeing himself from Dumo’s enveloping to tip one in past Murs. It’s back to 4-2. 

It might even have stayed like that, but a cross-check to Hags’ neck as he ducks out of a hit, accompanied by a taunt about ‘not flying like Superman now’ brings the Pens to a dangerous simmer. Looking along the bench, Justin can see nothing but determination along the bench to stomp all over the Flyers, to punish them for the late hits and the missed calls. Sully is working hard to channel it away from outright aggression and into aggressive puck handling, talking to the bench, calling shift changes to keep things focussed on hockey. 

It works; Cully’s line goes hard out on the forecheck, Tommy hits one of the Flyers as he’s turned and falling. It’s a dubious hit, made worse by the Flyer tripping unexpectedly but play goes on and Cully passes to Fehrsie from below the goal line, to beat Mason easily, and it’s 5-2 with ten minutes left to play. 

“At least I won’t be the only one with bruises,” mutters Tommy darkly as he comes back to the bench, Sully bringing him in to get another line out to avoid any retaliation. 

The Flyers keep trying - both to get under the Pens’ skins and to get another goal. After every whistle there’s jostling and the chirps are constant, but the Pens are backing up each other on the ice, trying to stay disengaged, trying to skate away and not do anything stupid. But they’re having to give more protection to Murs after one of the flyers ‘accidentally’ hits him in the neck with his stick, physically interposing their bodies between the Flyers and their goalie. 

Despite that, it’s the Pens who get the first power play of the period, and for tripping of all things that could be called. Justin wonders if Sully will give the Flyers a break and not put out his top unit, but he glances back and Sully’s face is set hard, as he signals Sid and the top unit onto the ice. No mercy then; Justin’s happy with that. 

They don’t manage to score again however, but it kills another two minutes off the clock and gets them two minutes closer to winning. 

The Flyers do manage to get the puck in the net again after the power play is over, but it’s waved off immediately for high sticks - Simmonds had tipped it over Murray, bouncing it off the top of the net. The Flyers make perfunctory protests, but as Justin watches them, their body language isn’t in it - they know it was a good call, and the teams quickly move to the next face-off. 

And then Bones gets called for hooking with about two minutes to go. 

“Just stay calm and do our jobs, boys!” says Tanger as he goes across the boards. Once he’s safely away, Justin exchanges looks with Colesy - because of course Tanger is the epitome of staying calm and not letting his emotions run amok. Colesy grins back at him, leaning in. 

“If Tanger’s saying it, then it must be true!” He mutters it, keeping his head low so no one else can overhear him say it. 

Mason gets pulled as quickly as the Flyers can get him off; suddenly it’s 6 against 4, but still the Pens penalty killers are holding their own, putting as much pressure as they dare on the Flyers, the empty net like a beacon at the other end of the ice. Then Fehrsie and Dales manage to create a turnover off a broken play, relentless in the pursuit of the puck and Cully and Fehrsie are breaking up ice and somehow they’ve got a two on one with no goalie in the net. They pass it back and forward between them, before Fehrsie sinks it easily into the net, the lone Flyer unable to do anything to stop it. 

And that’s it. 6-2 and the Flyers have been buried.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Cully!!!! how could you do this to us?! :'(
> 
> (My head keeps telling me it's entirely understandable. My heart is broken and crying)


	41. Celebration!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pens have qualified for the post-season and finally have some time off to celebrate...both together and privately.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There be smut ahead! If it's not your thing, there's no plot in this one.

Sully doesn’t keep them long, aware of their plans to celebrate that evening. He’s happy with how they played, congratulates them and reminds them they have an off day tomorrow but still have to fly to Ottawa in the afternoon before the game on Tuesday. And then with a wicked grin reminds them to keep hydrated, tells them to stay out of trouble and wishes them a good evening. 

0--0--0

They have a good evening; Flower is even well enough to come along, although when he arrives, they start cheering him. He shushes them all, pointing at his head with a pained expression and then, when they are hushed and apologetic and worried, laughs at them until he’s almost in tears. There might be more discontent about the way he’s just mocked the team’s attempt to be sensitive and supportive, but it’s Flower, and what can you do? Besides, Justin thinks, they’re just too relieved to see him again and that’s he’s been permitted to come to this shows he’s probably working through the protocols. The fact he’s back to playing jokes on them is a positive thing, really. 

Flower does admit later that he’s only allowed to attend for three hours, and drinks mineral water the whole time. That doesn’t stop him button-holing Justin and asking questions about Prague again, claiming all the while that it’s all he’s been able to think about. Justin manages to invent a story about a drunken strip-bar hop around Prague with an item of Sid’s (and many others of the team’s) clothing being left in each bar. He thinks it’s pretty implausible, but he does catch Geno listening in with a speculative look on his face which frankly is both worrying and terrifying. Flower obviously doesn’t believe a word of it, but it’s clear he’s noticed Geno’s reaction too, and is all too clearly enjoying Justin’s attempts at invention on the cuff to bring it to a close any sooner. 

In short, Flower is his usual annoying, sarcastic, joking self and the team manages to combine adoration with feeling terrifying and relieved all at the same time. It almost feels like normal for Flower being around. But Flower also makes sure to go around and speak to every member of the team, catching up with all of them, even if just for a few minutes, which also goes a long way to explaining their adoration of him. 

It's also really great to be able to have an evening to relax from the pressure of the play-off race and to take pleasure in the enjoyment of his team - his team! - celebrating their achievement. For the Pens who had been there through the entire, tumultuous season, there's a vindicated edge to the celebrations, a feeling like they made it, despite all the earlier commentary about the Pens and their chances of play-off success early in the season. 

But while Justin could relax and get truly, mind-roaringly drunk, he doesn't. Just before they left, Olli had pushed him up against the wall by his door and kissed him deeply and intensely, leaving Justin gasping for breath and suddenly aware of just how tight his pants were. 

Olli had looked at him from under his lashes, eyes dark and just said simply “Later”, before turning and walking off, just glancing back over his shoulder to see the effect he’s had on Justin. 

And that left Justin wanting, oh so much - and adjusting himself inside his pants. It had been so difficult to tear himself from Olli’s side all evening, to not touch him every time he’d found himself back beside Olli, so aware of where Olli is at all times, both of them inevitably gravitating back to each other. 

At the same time, he won’t leave early, no matter how much he wants to be back in their apartments, fooling around with Olli. His team - and hopefully him - are going to be playing the in play-offs, for the Stanley Cup, for the first time in his career. So despite his awareness of Olli, his gravitation towards Olli, he throws himself wholeheartedly into celebration too - even if he does drink a lot more sodas across the evening than he’d normally have done. 

But, eventually, it is late, and the group is starting to break up. Justin is able to round Olli up (or maybe Olli is able to round Justin up) and they can call for one of the Pens cars Sid had insisted - upon pain of severe and creative punishment, even if it was unspecified - that they all use tonight and it’s not long before they’re safely back at their apartment block. 

Olli steers Justin towards his own flat. 

“You’re staying over tonight aren’t you?” Olli appears confident as ever as he pushes open the door, but Justin thinks he can hear an underlying uncertainty there. 

“If you want me to,” is Justin’s reply. “I want to, but I don’t want to impose or assume.”

Olli’s grin brightens. “Oh, I want you to as well. Your flight isn’t until the afternoon isn’t it? We’ve got plenty of time then. The trainers let me reschedule rehab to the afternoon as well.” 

Justin has almost stopped paying attention past ‘want you’, but his attention does also catch on ‘plenty of time’ too, and that’s pretty much all he needs to hear. He snakes an arm around Olli’s waist, tugging Olli gently towards him. Olli comes quickly, twisting around to face Justin, leaning into kiss him, just a gentle brush of lips upon lips at first, closed-mouthed and teasing. Justin goes along at first, just enjoying the feeling, savouring the feeling of Olli in his arms. 

He feels one of Olli’s hands slip down to rest on his butt and it still makes him grin, internally, how much Olli likes to play with it. His internal grin becomes external when the resting hand starts to squeeze and caress. 

“I know you're laughing,” mutters Olli between kisses. 

“Yeah but I'm enjoying it too!” replies Justin and he arches his butt into Olli’s hand. It's Olli’s turn to smile. But in doing that, their groins are no longer in contact so he hooks a hand onto Olli’s butt, snuggling him on closer so the delicious contact is restored. He feels Olli relax into that, bringing them even closer together and he has to draw a breath at the pleasure that brings. 

He feels Olli’s tongue sliding along the crease of his lips so he obediently opens to the pressure. Olli's tongue slides inside, quickly circling before their tongues dance together and Justin's starting to lose himself in the feelings. 

After some time of breathing and gasping and kissing and rubbing and the feeling of pleasure and want growing, Olli breaks the kiss. 

“I want you but I want you more in my bed than in my hall, fun though this is.” His voice is dark and heavy with lust and it takes Justin a moment to surface enough to understand what he’s saying. But yes, that does seem like a really good idea, so he lets Olli lead him through the apartment to the bedroom, closing the door firmly behind them, shutting out the world so the entire universe is just the two of them. 

It's Justin’s turn to start the kissing this time, hands running through Olli’s hair to catch at his head and take control of the kiss, tilting his head just so to better luck up into Olli’s mouth, to draw out breathy noises and sighs from him. Justin can feel himself hardening just from that, the feel of Olli’s mouth, the noises he makes as they kiss and that's before he feels Olli's hands sliding down his back to rest in his butt - again. 

It's not long before Olli’s hands are moving around to the front and Justin can feel him fumbling at the button. He cants his hips, trying to make access easier and Olli must take that as permission as in very short order, his pants are being skimmed down his leg. The hand that Olli slides across his cock makes him shudder with the sudden shock of pleasure that thrums through him, so of course Olli has to do it again, rubbing Justin’s cock to full hardness through his briefs. 

Then his hands are gone and Justin finds himself whining at the loss of sensation. Olli breaks the kiss. 

“Need to get my own pants off!”

And it's true, he’s sliding his pants down his thighs revealing pale luscious skin over firm muscles, and Justin can’t help running his own hands down Olli’s thighs, enjoying the feel of them under his hands. Olli moves away briefly to get rid of his pants, so Justin takes the opportunity to do the same, watching with interest as Olli also wriggles out of his t-shirt. He goes to take off his own shirt but Olli is there too quickly, batting away his hands. 

“Let me do it,” he says, starting to undo the buttons slowly. 

Justin watches him for a moment, then grins. “Are you one of those people who take an age to unwrap his Christmas presents?”

“So I like to take my time, to make the enjoyment last. Right now I’m enjoying unwrapping you.”

“Be my guest,” Justin replies. There’s not much he can do without getting in the way until Olli is done, so he contents himself with taking a leaf from Olli’s book and caressing Olli’s butt, letting his hands roam, running his thumb along the outline of Olli’s cock. Olli arches forward, into his hand. 

“I should stop doing this since you like to take your time,” mutters Justin, but he’s enjoying Olli’s reaction, the look on Olli’s face too much. Meanwhile his own button-up is being slid down his arms and he lets Olli pull it off, moving in on him and hustling him in the direction of the bed, taking the opportunity to kick off his briefs as well - way too restrictive now. Olli goes willingly and shortly after, they’re lying side by side, kissing again. Olli’s hands are wandering, light touches and caresses which are sensitising Justin’s skin, leaving him leaning into each touch. Then his fingers are squeezing gently on Justin’s nipple and Justin gasps, pushing forward to try to get more of that, to get more of the warmth shooting from the nipple down to his cock. 

Olli pulls out of the kiss with a last lick around the inside of Justin’s mouth, pushing Justin over onto his back, than his mouth is sliding down Justin’s body to enclose his other nipple in it, sucking on that one and fingers playing with the other one and it just feels amazing. He arches into it, rolling his head back and yes, that was a whimper escaping as Olli flicks at his nipple with his tongue. He needs - desperately needs - to feel something with his cock to match what Olli is giving him, so he cants his hips up wrapping his legs behind Olli’s thighs, and is happy it’s not just him gasping as his cock brushes against Olli, sweet friction sending a shudder through him. He slides his hands down, capturing both of their cocks together, causing Olli to groan, the vibrations from that rippling down his body to where his cock is leaking precum. Jacking both his and Olli’s cocks together feels amazing and he can feel the effect it’s having on Olli as Olli tries to keep teasing his nipples but has to stop and pant as Justin runs his thumb along Olli’s slit, now leaking copiously. Olli breaks away from his nipple to slide back up and kiss Justin, open mouthed and demanding entrance. Olli’s hand replaces his mouth on his nipple, and somehow, the movement has brought their cocks into better alignment and the feeling of Olli’s mouth on his, the shivers of pleasure Olli is drawing from his nipples shooting down into his groin and the feeling of their cocks sliding together, wrapped in Justin’s hands is all too much and the pleasure is building and building and peaking as he arches upwards, panting, and he’s casting off out of his body, pleasure and desire and need coursing through his body as he comes hard. 

Hazily he’s aware of Olli stiffening and coming above him, hears him crying out, before collapsing boneless on Justin and somehow, he finds the muscle coordination to slide his hands around Olli, cuddling this amazing, beautiful, wonderful man into him, content and satisfied.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Edited to add: next chapter around the 9th of September.


	42. Reflections

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin gets a chance to see how far he's come since moving to Pittsburgh. 
> 
> Oh and the Pens close out the regular season, secure home ice and prepare for the play-offs!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm so sorry, this chapter has been very slow (but is very long - you're pretty much getting two chapters here)

The next morning is lazy and relaxed and together, with several more orgasms. In fact, Justin thinks it’s a pretty much perfect way to spend a morning. It’s partly because they’ve hardly seen each other and they’re going to be apart again, as Justin completes the last road trip of the regular season, from Ottawa, to Washington and finishing the season at the Flyers. Home ice is still to be had, so they can’t even sit back any - Justin’s pretty sure that Sully wouldn’t let them anyway. So even though it’s just a morning, being able to squeeze in that time to spend with Olli is special to him. 

It’s not all fun and sexy times though - he even manages to get his laundry done. There were advantages to living in a hotel, he reflects, as he sorts and folds and puts away. Like someone else doing his laundry. But there’s also relaxation in the sheer mundanity of it, a feeling of dealing with the normal which keeps him grounded. 

But it seems like it’s all too soon before he’s preparing to head out to the airport for the flight to Ottawa. Olli grabs him around the hips, pulling him in closer for a kiss that’s long and intense. 

“I won’t want to go if you keep kissing me like that. Surely we’ve got a bit more time before I need to leave?” Justin finds himself whining when they pause for breath. He wants more of that. 

The corner of Olli’s mouth quirks up in a lopsided grin. “Well at least I know you won’t be tempted by all the puck bucks! Now go and win us home ice advantage!”

Justin leans in for one last kiss.. Which, ok maybe become two or three more last kisses, but he does eventually pull himself away, gathering up his bags and heading for his car. 

0--0--0

On his way to the airport, he finds himself reflecting. In previous years, the last road-trip of the season has been a grind, something to be endured, sure in the knowledge that a fruitless season is coming to an end. There would also be the bittersweet knowledge that some of your teammates won’t be your teammates after season end. 

At least this time, he’s heading off to the trip with a light heart. Their place in the playoffs is assured, but they want that home ice and they want to keep riding whatever magic they’ve pulled together as long as they can, to wherever it may end. So while he might like to stay at home with Olli, it also feels too precious to him to have this opportunity now and not throw himself into it. He’s been too long without reaching the playoffs to take it for granted that he’ll get there again in the future. And to get there with this group of guys, who have accepted him, both as a player, given his reputation for fucking up with the Oilers, and for what some of them now know about him, just makes the situation even more special. He’s only been here for a few weeks, but for now, he can’t imagine playing anywhere else. 

It’s not perfect though. From a purely personal viewpoint, the Pens are about to have seven healthy defensemen - eight if you count Poo - for six spots on ice. In his heart, he knows it’s almost impossible he can take Olli’s place on the ice. Olli is just so far above him in terms of skill, talent and ability. But Justin is showing to himself, to the Pens and to the rest of the NHL that there is more to him as a hockey player than how he was in Edmonton, so he doesn’t want to give up his place on the team without a fight. 

For his own self worth - no matter how low and limited that still is - he has to keep on battling, to keep on playing to the best of his abilities, to even be finding out where the best of his abilities lie. He’s mostly lost his fear of playing and when he thinks about it, he’s even been finding hockey fun again. Swept up in the run of victories they’ve been having, he’s been reminded (or he’s discovered, given he was on the Oilers before), what it’s like to be part of a team that is clicking at every level and it’s an amazing feeling. To be out there, contributing in even a limited way - and even he has to concede on some nights, his contributions have been more than limited - to be part of a team doing what the Pens are doing is something that gives him such a sense of pride and he’s going to do his best that it doesn’t come crashing down because of him. 

And these could be his last games with the Pens. They could go out in the first round, and he might not play a game in the playoffs. If these are going to be the last games he plays, he wants to play his best, to do whatever he can for the team that has taken a chance on him and given him a chance in return. A chance at thinking he's something more than a fuck-up of a hockey player, destined to be mocked in the league for coming in with high expectations and crashing and burning. 

So it's with renewed determination that he's driving into the parking compound at the airport, ready for the road trip. 

0--0--0

It's late and he’s tired as he drives out of the compound four days later. He’s missing a tooth - knocked out in practice before the Washington game, he’s tired but he’s satisfied - they’ve finished the regular season, they’ve secured home ice advantage, at least for the first round and in their last three games, they only lost once, to the Flyers, when Sully had taken the decision to rest Sid and Tanger since it was the last game of the season and completely meaningless. Despite that, they had come very close to beating the Flyers, themselves battling to scrape into the postseason. It had been annoying to finish the season on a loss, but given the team they had iced, against a team fighting for its own playoff spot, for it to have been a one goal game until the Flyers sealed it with an empty netter in the dying seconds was something that greatly eased the sting of defeat. 

But it was the overtime win over the Caps they’d really enjoyed. Beating the Caps on their home ice, just before the playoffs, when everyone is predicting the Caps and the Pens to battle it out in the second round (with most pundits seemingly picking the Caps, like they haven’t been watching the Pens over the last two months) was a major victory for the Pens. Sure, the Caps would try and downplay it, but Justin knows how a game like that can play on the players’ minds - particularly since it had stopped Holtby setting a new wins record, and given home ice advantage to the Pens. Both teams had had a lot to battle for in the game, and it had been the Pens who had stretched out and snatched the game. 

In a way, it couldn’t have been scripted any better. The Caps had somehow managed to shut down Bones’ line and Sids’ line - only for Cullen to score two, and Sheary to sneak one in, set up by Sestito, showing he can do more than hit and fight. And then, after the Caps had fought back to tie it up, Sid got the puck while lurking, unnoticed at the blue line in overtime, going in alone on Holtby with predictable results. Another game-winning goal for Sid, and another victory for the Pens. The smugness had rolled off Tanger in the post game scrum. He’d been beaten by, and beaten in his turn, Ovi in a constant, vicious battle all night as Tanger refused to allow Ovi an inch of ice to wreak havoc and for his team to come out victorious - well, Justin had noticed the looks he shot in Ovi’s direction as he fled the ice, defeated. 

And before that game, they’d let themselves go 3-0 down against the Senators, only to score five unanswered in the second and third periods to take the game. Justin had got the assist on the Pens’ first goal - firing a puck in on net, only for Hammond to save it, but Horny had picked it up in a net front scuffle and jammed it over to start the Pens’ comeback, with Sid and Hags both getting in on the scoring, getting a couple of goals each. 

It’s fair to say that after that, everyone’s confidence had been flying high. Being able to make that kind of comeback after a bad start, just completely overwhelming a team which had thought they had a fairly secure lead… It really was an amazing feeling and the locker room afterwards had fizzed with excitement. 

So despite the loss in their final game, it had been a great road trip and Justin had tried, in his own way, to savour it. It’s becoming more and more real to him that he wants to just keep on doing this forever, playing with this team, fitting in like he does, and he might not get to do it again once their season is over. 

But now, he’s arriving home, and heading straight to bed. It’s so late Olli hadn’t put up much of a fight when Justin had said he wouldn’t call when he got home - but they had agreed to brunch/lunch tomorrow on what is a blessed full off day before the work for the playoffs begins. But they’ve even got over a full week at home before they have to go to New York to face the Rangers, and with how little Justin has seen of Olli lately, he’s going to make the most of it. 

0--0--0

He wakes to the quietness you only get if you sleep late, no alarms to waken you with the rest of the humanity. It’s quiet and peaceful and he savours it, no place he needs to be - yet. 

So he potters, doing laundry, changing linens, doing domestic stuff he hasn't had much of a chance to do either from being on the road or staying in a hotel. It's not like he's had much of an opportunity to make much of a mess but he enjoys the feeling of playing house. 

He's starting to think about checking in with Olli when his phone rings, music cutting off suddenly as his phone fulfills its primary reason. It must be Olli calling and he's already to chirp at the laziness of calling rather than coming to his apartment when the name on the screen registers. 

It's Ebs calling. 

He pounces on his cell, swiping across the screen as though any hesitation will cause Ebs to hang up. They've exchanged a few messages since the trade, but nothing more than ‘hey how’s it going’ type things. 

“Hey Ebs!” he exclaims in greeting. 

“Is that the top defenceman, going to the playoffs, Mr Justin Schultz speaking? Do you have a moment to speak to a scrub out of Edmonton?” Ebs’ voice is light and cheerful and laughing. 

“Fuck you!” Justin says in response, face flushing with embarrassment as it's not like that at all. He can’t help laughing though. It’s kind of ridiculous. “That’s… you know that’s… it’s not….”

Fortunately Ebs takes pity on his spluttering, his inability to come up with any kind of repudiation of what Ebs has said. 

“Thought I'd call and congratulate you now it's all officially done. Look at you, off to the playoffs, Schultzy, like a proper grown up hockey player!” 

“It's amazing” replied Justin. “It's still hard to believe I'm doing that. But the Pens - there’s no way anyone would keep them out of the playoffs. Anyone coming here would be swept along by it. How are things in Edmonton? How are the guys?”

Ebs sighs. “Well we knew we were not getting to the playoffs before you left us, but the trades just underlined it. You know what it’s like, you’re used to the idea, but then the season ends, and you’re really reminded your season is over. Locker break down later, say goodbye to the guys, wondering who’ll be back next year and then off to the golf course.”

Justin makes a sympathetic noise - he knows exactly what it’s like. “But if Conor stays healthy, you’re looking better for next year.”

“Yeah, we are and that’s what you keep telling yourself.” Ebs seems to hesitate. “There are some weird things being said though about who might be up for trade. Lots of rumours, and some of it coming from people who we know the team talk to. It just feels really uncertain right now. The team wants to get better and the management seem to think they need to trade to do that.”

“Are you going to be ok?” Justin is worried for his friend now. “I mean, a trade isn’t the end of the world - I can vouch for that - but given your circumstances… “

“Yeah, I’m not sure. It just feels like the team is trying to do a big trade to get a d-man, which basically means me, Hallsy or Nuge could be on the move… and yeah, the thought of that sucks.” 

Justin is quiet, shocked for a moment. Those three have been the core forwards on the team for as long as he was in Edmonton. “Fuck, Ebs… I hope it doesn’t mean that. After what you three have gone through for that team!”

“Yeah, well, it’s a business, don’t you know!” There’s bitterness in Ebs’ tone, and Justin can understand it. “Loyalty, relationships, personal circumstances.. None of those matter. You should know that. But hey I didn’t actually phone to whinge about what’s happening here, I phoned to hear about you. Because I’ve caught a few of your games and it’s like the last couple of years in Edmonton didn’t happen - it’s been great seeing it. What’s happened?”

“It’s not me, it’s the Pens,” Justin says with certainty. “It’s just been really good for me here. Coming here, with no expectations - either good or bad - well, it was like a clean slate. All I could do was try my best, try my hardest, but it’s like I wasn’t weighed down with the bad stuff anymore? Management and coaches have been really honest, and I really wanted to not play like crap all the time, and they’ve been trying to help me do that, and I don’t think I have and I’m pretty sure if I was, they’d have told me. In fact, the one time I thought I’d fucked up, I was told I hadn’t fucked up, that the goal wasn’t on me. And when something like that happens, it just makes me think - when was the last time in Edmonton someone said something wasn’t my fault? I mean, I know I was fucking up a lot there and a lot of it was my fault...but here, it’s not even about blame. It’s about responsibility and working to avoid making the same mistakes twice. It’s not about being told ‘do better, try harder’, it’s about being told how you did the play wrong, and what you can do to correct it.”

He takes a breath, he’s been starting to rant a little, willing himself to calm down. Ebs isn’t to blame for Edmonton, Ebs was the guy who helped him the most in Edmonton. 

“It's different here, Ebs, it's really different from how it was in Edmonton. I might have dropped to the third pair and be getting a lot less ice, but when I'm out there now I’m not as useless or helpless. The coaches are not just throwing me out against anyone, they're trying to use me in a way which is good for the way I play. And yeah, I feel like I can do things here to help and that’s a good feeling - and one I’d been missing. And fuck man, we’re going to the playoffs! I’m never going to argue with that!” he finishes. 

“Oh man, I’m glad it’s working out for you. I’d hoped it would be better - it was pretty obvious that the situation in Edmonton was messing with you a lot and that maybe getting away would help a bit. Landing someplace that is actually working on helping you is great. I mean, we hear the rumours about the Pens, and you guys are looking hotter than hot right now. How are you getting on with the team? Sid’s great, isn’t he?”

“Sid’s great, the team’s been great too. Very welcoming.” He hesitates, unsure whether he wants to say more, to voice anything that could be seen as criticism about Edmonton to the guy who least deserves the criticism and is still stuck there. So he restricts himself. “They’ve made me really feel part of the team, not like I’m a rental at all.”

“You don’t think you’ll stick?” asks Ebs. 

“The GM was very honest - they can’t afford to qualify me at my current cap hit. There could be a place as a free agent if I prove myself but that need take a pay cut. Might be worth it though.”

Ebs make a noise of surprise. “Even if someone else were willing to re-sign you at the higher salary?”

Justin snorts. “I’m not sure that’s going to happen, not with the way I was playing. But here, it’s just working better, Ebs. I feel part of the team, and I feel like my game is improving in a way it hasn’t been for ages, and that’s down to the coaches and the way I’m being used here. There’s still games to play, still time for me to fuck it up, but yeah, if I could stay here, I would.”

He doesn’t mention Olli, keeps that reason for wanting to stay quiet, aware that basing wanting to stay on something which they’ve agreed is of the moment is naive - but unable to not do it. He worries that Ebs will assume he’s willing to take a salary cut for that, but it is more than that, although he can't deny that's one reason for staying here. 

But then he’s never admitted he’s gay to Ebs either. He knows Ebs has guessed, but it's never been openly acknowledged between them. But that, he can change now he realises. After all, if accidentally telling your teammates didn't have any bad consequences then telling the guy who already knows won't do either. 

He hopes. 

“There’s something I’d like to tell you,” he begins. “I accidentally told some of the team the other day and it went better than I'd have ever thought. So I need to tell you although I think you already know, but Ebs, I'm gay.” He takes a gulp after he says it, gut still coiling with anxiety and nerves as he waits for Ebs’ reaction. 

“Whooah, Justin, well done you! Yeah, you're right i had guessed but that’s cool you felt comfortable enough to tell me now. And well done for being able to tell anyone - even accidentally. It's a fucking scary thing to do in the NHL.” Ebs sounds pleased for him. “But accidentally? How the fuck do you tell someone accidentally?”

Justin sighs - he should have foreseen that question and really doesn’t want to go into the whole ‘I got a hickey from someone on my team’ confession. “I was being chirped and I kind of said something about it being men, not women, I’d be into.”

Ebs laughs. “But it’s good right? No-one’s giving you a hard time?

“No, only a few of them know, but they’ve all been really good. I’ve to tell Tanger - Kris Letang - if anyone gives me a hard time about it - I think he’ll find them and punch them or something and generally defend my honor. He looked like he’d enjoy doing it too.”

“He would,” Ebs says with feeling. “It’s good that someone’s watching your back though,” and there’s something in Ebs tone which raises Justin’s hackles - a combined wistfulness/bitterness, like that’s something which hasn’t happened to him previously. 

“Have you been getting hassle in Edmonton?” Justin asks. 

“Just the same old, same old. The guys who don’t approve continue to make their disapproval known in a number of small but continuous ways, only now they have the the trade rumors to act as fuel and bait. It just gets tiring, you know?” 

“I hear you. It’s shitty, with all you’ve done for the team.” Justin feels the unfairness of it all

“Yeah, it is. But we finished last in the division despite Conner so you know they have to make more changes. We’re no longer the best players on the team so we’re expendable. It's Conner’s team now and they have to shape it around him.”

“This is a fucking shitty business sometimes.”

“Yeah, it is. But then I hear you talking about how this has been a great move for you and I remind myself it doesn't have to be a bad thing.”

Justin bites his lip for a moment, wondering if he can, if he should say what he feels he wants to. Oh fuck it. 

“One thing I've learned is that the way the Oilers do some things is pretty fucked up. The guys here have been pretty surprised at some of the things I've told them. No-one here would even consider you making you face the media to explain your mistakes as some kind of punishment from the coaches for example,” Justin says. 

“Well you’d hope it's not all as fucked up as here is at times. But you’ve been talking to people about what happened to you here?”

Fuck. He hopes Ebs isn’t going to be mad. “Yeah, I got together with some of the other guys who were traded here and we had a bit of a bitching session, talking about our last teams and how the trades went down”. He shouldn’t feel like he’s been disloyal to the Oilers, but he still manages to feel guilty. He knows he sounds defensive. 

“Hey, that’s great. Listen to you, all grown up and talking about feelings! You’ve been doing it through this call as well Schultzy. I’m so proud of you, but I almost don’t recognise you!” There’s a teasing tone to Ebs’ voice, but there’s also approval and pride there as well, like he thinks this is a good thing. 

“Fuck you!” growls Justin. “It’s this team, they make you do it. They ask questions - Olli’s the worst - and next thing you know, you’re talking about how you feel about stuff. Honestly, I haven’t wanted to, but they keep doing it!” 

Ebs is laughing at the frustration in his tone. “Hey, I think it’s good for you. You kept things too bottled up before, wouldn’t talk to us, I think it will help. Do you think it helps?”

“Well, I feel uncomfortable doing it - fuck, see I’m doing it again! - but it does make me feel better to talk about some of this stuff.” He can’t help grinning though at the thought that even when complaining about talking about feelings, he’s still talking about feelings. There’s an irony to that he can appreciate. But he’s also realising that somehow he has moved into a place where he does actually talk about this shit and it does actually make him feel better - even if he hasn’t actually realised what has been going on. He’s pretty sure Olli is going to carry a lot of the blame for that. 

“Wow bud, looks like the move out there has helped you in all kinds of ways. I’m really happy for you, you deserved way better than you got here, and it sounds like you’re getting it now.” Ebs is sounding so happy and proud, and Justin can actually wholeheartedly agree with what he’s just said. And speaking to Ebs has just really underlined it. 

“Thanks man. I do miss you though - you were so great to me in Edmonton, I’m not sure I would have made it through without you.” He doesn’t what to think about what could have, what might have happened if he had stayed in Edmonton; the main thing is he didn’t. But Ebs is still there, and he doesn’t deserve any of the shit either. “If I can ever do anything for you, you let me know, you hear me? Anything - I owe so much to you!”

“You owe me nothing! But there is one thing…”

“Name it!”

“Could you get me a signed Crosby jersey? My mom would love one!” And Ebs is laughing so much, Justin has to join in.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I'm slightly annoyed because I had't been able to work out when Justin lost his tooth - i knew it was before the playoffs, but not exactly when. So it's included in this chapter... and then in his AMA on reddit tonight, he says he lost it in the game before these games, against the Flyers (of course). So close, and yet not close enough!
> 
> Hockey is nearly back... Happy training camp!
> 
> Also, I've been posting this for nearly a year. Who'd have thought... and still two months of the playoffs to write :o


	43. Penguins, pizza, pasta and penguins

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Olli and Justin are trolled into going on a date. Kind of. Really, they'd rather be doing other things!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I think we need some fluff right now!

They chat for a while longer, but the conversation has moved more into gossip, news from the guys Justin knew while he was in Edmonton, nothing too heavy after all that has gone before. It’s just really nice to catch up with Ebs, and when the call is finally over, Justin feels all the lighter for speaking to him. Somehow, Ebs had even talked him into getting a jersey signed by Sid for Ebs’ mom. 

It’s not too long though before Olli messages him, asking if he still wants lunch. Justin checks the time - it has got much later than he’d realised. He agrees quickly and Olli suggests Piccolo Forno. It’s an Italian place favoured by the team that Justin hasn’t had a chance to get to yet. 

Olli comes by to collect him - Olli’s going to drive as he knows where they are going, and Justin knows he’s still likely to get lost in Pittsburgh if he leaves the well worn route between Cranberry, Consol and the airport. But it also gives him the opportunity to say hi to Olli privately, after being away all week, and so they leave Justin’s apartment looking a bit more mussed than they had been before they met, Olli’s lips pink from kissing and his color heightened. Justin thinks he looks gorgeous. 

But they do have to go get lunch… so slightly reluctantly they head out and drive over to Lawrenceville. It’s not too busy when they get there - so Hags and Horny, sharing a table are instantly noticeable as Justin enters. He hesitates for a moment, unsure what to do, but Horny has spotted them at the door and gives a shout of welcome, waving them over to their table. The restaurant staff step in, quickly increasing their table from two to four and Olli and Justin are settled in alongside them in a matter of moments. 

“Making the most of the off day?” Hags asks as they settle. 

“Yeah, Schultzy hasn’t made it here yet, so it seemed like a good opportunity,” Olli replies easily. 

“Oh it’s good, you’ve been missing out Schultzy!” Horny exclaims. “So long as you don’t mind being the lone Canadian hanging with the three Scandis.” He catches the look of disapproval Olli is giving him, brow furrowed and lips pursed. “I know Finland isn’t part of Scandinavia, but it’s an easy way to say it!”

Olli rolls his eyes and huffs. “Swedes. You could have said Nordics.” He shakes his head in mock disapproval. 

“Finns,” Horny mimics. “I wasn’t sure a Canadian would know what I meant.”

“I’d have known what you meant!” Justin protests. “Kind of anyway - I’m sure I could have worked it out from the context!”

Olli pauses. “Ok, Horny, you have a point.” He shakes his head, but all of them are laughing as well. 

Justin quickly chooses his pasta and his pizza, justifying it entirely as being necessary to help maintain his post-season conditioning. They’ve had the trainers stressing to them the importance of trying to keep body weight up, of how the intensity of the post-season will be harder on them than on the regular season. It’s something Justin has heard about, but not experienced so he’ll try and do what the trainers say until he works out what works for him. And if that means eating pasta and pizza in a restaurant all his teammates rave about… he’ll take that hardship. Besides, when he looks at what Hags and Horny are doing, they aren’t eating lightly either. 

Hags catches him looking over their plates. 

“It’s all good here, really,” he says. “But I love the pasta.”

“No, I was just thinking about what the trainers said about trying to maintain weight,” he says a bit shyly, all too aware that he sounds very inexperienced. “Is it really as hard as they say?”

Horny snorts. “It doesn’t sound like it should be, does it? I mean, it’s a little bit more frequency than the regular season, but that shouldn’t be enough to matter?” He shakes his head. “Yeah, it is. You just get so caught up in it, this is your chance to do the thing you dream about doing, you’ve got to give it your all. It becomes all-consuming. It’s not like the regular season where you can hang back, conserve energy in a game, half-ass it. You’re all in, every game, no respite.”

“The deeper you go, the harder it gets,” continues Hags. “When I went to the Final with the Rangers in 2014, man, we were so worn down by that point. You need to train, you need to practice, you need to play. You don’t want to be the person that doesn’t have the conditioning to carry on deep into overtime, but also, you trying to make sure you are rested, get enough sleep. You start to feel like there is nothing but playing in the playoffs - everything else is secondary and a distraction. You wouldn’t have it any other way though - it’s something you play your whole career for.” He grins. “So order what you want and don’t feel guilty about it. You’ll be glad of it, deep in some overtime at some point, when you’re wondering how your legs will keep working!”

Justin does exactly what he suggests; a small bowl of pasta and a pizza and then, to help his conscience, a side salad as well. He can see why it’s such a team favourite when the food comes. It’s so good, flavours bursting out as he bites into it. The guys laugh at his moan of pleasure; Olli looking at him fondly across the table, eyes just a little bit brighter. 

“I think you just made another convert to this place, Olli,” says Horny with a grin. 

“I’m surprised by now the Pens haven’t done a deal with the place!” replies Olli. “We should be on commission.”

“I’m glad they haven’t, I’d like to be able to come in without too many problems.” Horny rolls his eyes, presumably at the thought of what might happen if too much attention is drawn to it.

They try not to talk about hockey, but too many shared experiences as they talk of other things means it all keeps coming back to hockey. Still it’s a fun lunch, with a lot of laughter and a lot of sniping between the Swedes and the Finn. Justin loyally joins in on Olli’s side - “He’s outnumbered, I can’t leave him alone!” he explains when Hags protests. 

“Ok, we’ll take that as the reason then, if that’s what you’re saying!” fires back Hags, grinning broadly. Justin tries not to blush, tries to keep meeting his look, but it’s all too knowing. 

“So what are you doing for the rest of the day?” Hags continues. 

Olli shrugs. “Haven’t really thought about it. Lunch was kind of the priority.”

“You should take Justin to the zoo to see the penguins!”

Olli rolls his eyes. “You don’t think that’s a bit cliched? Going to see penguins on our off day?”

Horny frowns. “It’s fun, but yeah, it’s a bit touristy or date like.”

“I’m pretty much a tourist here,” Justin says helpfully. He kind of likes the idea of going on a date with Olli. “It must have more than penguins?” 

Olli shrugs. “I guess we can do it if you want.” 

Horny bursts out laughing, pointing at Justin. “Look at that face Olli, there’s no way you’re getting out of this now! Such big puppy dog eyes.” 

Justin tries to rearrange his face into a more normal look; apparently his subtle ‘I want to do that’ look he had been giving Olli was not nearly as subtle as he’d thought. 

“Well that’s settled then,” says Hags. “And we want at least three cheesy pictures of the pair of you at the zoo this afternoon to be posted on the team WhatsApp.” 

0--0--0

Olli is still surprisingly grumpy while they drive over to the zoo. 

“Look, I’m sorry, if I realised you really didn’t want to go, we could have done something else instead,” says Justin penitently. 

“It’s fine,” Olli sighs. “It’s just that...well… I’d been hoping you’d fuck me this afternoon.” He glances over at Justin as he says it. “Or I could fuck you… I’m kind of easy that way. But I’d prefer you fuck me.” 

Whoaahhh - and how do you go from talking about and planning a trip to the zoo to a point where Olli is asking him to fuck him without any warning whatsoever? Justin’s brain is struggling to cope with such a shift, but the one thing he’s 100% absolutely and completely clear about is that he’s all on board with what Olli wants. And wishing Olli had brought it up sooner, because now they’re committed to going to the zoo and posting cheesy pictures of themselves to the WhatsApp group instead of spending the day fucking. And there’s no way they’re posting pictures of that instead!

He swallows, trying to get his speech going again, stumbles, has to stop and clear his throat before it will work. 

“Erm.. yeah.. I’d like that, I’d like that a lot actually,” he manages to mutter, blushing furiously. “Maybe we can keep the zoo visit really short? Like literally long enough to take some pictures? Do you think we need to actually go into it - would a picture at the gate be enough?”

Olli laughs, colour heightened also, but looking satisfied at Justin’s quick and emphatic agreement. “I think we’ll have to go in. But for sure, we can keep it short though. We’ve got important plans for the rest of the afternoon now!” His dimples are out in full force and Justin wants to kiss him, but he can’t, they’re in public. 

“I’m going to be going around the zoo, wanting to touch you, and we won’t be able to, will I?” he says slowly as he realises. “It’s too public.”

Olli’s dimples fade. “It’s too public,” he says slowly. “We could be recognised and then all hell breaks loose. And even if we wanted everyone to know… to do it that way, this close to the playoffs…” He breaks off. 

Justin sighs, bitterly. Olli’s right, Justin’s right. They agreed not to tell their team about what this thing is that they’ve got. That means they can’t be caught in public doing anything which suggests they are more than teammates. For their team to find out like that would be shitty; for the world to find out there are gay NHLers in a relationship in this way, this close to the playoffs; Justin shudders, the response would be awful and all consuming and entirely unfair to the team. 

It’s crap. There’s no way around it, but it’s the life he’s accepted for now, knowing the rules he needs to follow to be in it. But when faced with what that actually means sometimes, the stuff he can’t do that other players can - it’s really crap. He tries to remind himself that at least he has Olli just now and to focus on their plans for after the zoo. He has something, not nothing. It could be worse. 

“It sucks,” he says aloud. 

Olli nods. “For sure,” he replies somberly. “But it could be worse. We’re on a team where we could tell them and there’d be no issues. So at least we can have something if we want to do that. And for now, we walk around the zoo like buddies, and then we can go home and fuck!” 

Justin has to swallow quickly at that, trying not to choke. Well, if Olli keeps saying that, he’ll keep Justin focused on the here and now, and not the bigger picture. That’s not such a bad thing since he can’t do much to change the bigger picture. He doesn’t need to answer though, as Olli’s pulling into the zoo parking lot. 

The girl at the admission desk looks at them like she’s trying to place them - well more likely Olli, given Justin’s only been here a few weeks and doubt any Pittsburgh native could pick him out of a line up. Fortunately she doesn’t recognise them, so they’re able to get into the zoo without any hassle. 

Although Olli had insisted they get a zoo map, once inside he seems more content to wander, and it’s not long before they start to pick out animals which remind them of their teammates. The cheetah kicks it off, as even though its curled up asleep, it’s general blondeness and speed means it's clearly Hags. They’ve heard of the comparisons between Phil and red pandas, and now, seeing them in the flesh, they have to agree; Phil is a red panda. So they take a picture of one and share it on the WhatsApp group. Having shared one, they start to share all their discoveries. 

They’re disappointed that there are no mongooses in the zoo, and Olli thinks the mongooses are more like the capuchin monkeys, bouncing around continually and noisily, investigating everything, while Justin argues fiercely for the meerkats - small and fierce, but also into everything. 

Flower is clearly the ocelot, watching everything going on around it through its slanted eyes. The fact that there are ocelot kittens is a bonus - and they’re adorable - so they photograph the family and tag in both Flower and Murrs. 

They find Horny in the sea otters - just resolutely playful, always on the move, the relentless energy so much like Horny as game time approaches. 

Olli argues that Sid is like the Canadian lynx. 

“You’re just saying that because it’s got the word ‘Canadian’ in the name!” exclaims Justin, but there is something there, as it also sits, exuding the total confidence of a top of the food chain predator which does remind Justin of Sid on the ice. 

“Well if Sid is the lynx, Geno’s the tiger!” Justin says as they stand watching it. It’s currently asleep, but even so, it’s an enormous, beautiful animal, power and energy contained. But just looking at it, they can see how dangerous it is - and yeah, that’s Geno through and through. Don’t make the tiger mad!

They find Tanger in the aquarium, inspired by the elegance of sea lions as they glide effortlessly through the water, like Tanger on ice. But also the grumpy barking as they wait to be fed… 

They’re looking at the elephants, when Olli suddenly squeals and points excitedly, ‘It’s Cully!” 

Justin looks at the elephant and looks at Olli and looks at the elephant again; he shakes his head, he can’t see it. 

“They live to be about 200 years old, and look how old and wise and knowledgeable it is. It’s so Cully!”

Justin can see his point but he’s damn sure he’s not the one that’s going to post that Cully is like a 200 year old elephant. Especially not if he’s suggesting that Cully has the memory of an elephant too. 

Olli seems to have no such problem, posting the photo of the elephant and Justin kind of wants to see Cully’s reaction. The team has been generally enjoying their suggestions of similarities although some of the victims had protested - well Geno had liked being compared to a tiger, sending a weird stream of emoji they had eventually decided indicated enjoyment. Sid had been less convinced about his lynx, the mongooses were up in arms they’d been compared to monkeys. But Justin suspects there will be retribution from Cully because they’ve compared him to an old elephant. 

In the meantime though, from the comments being made, it seems like the team is enjoying the comparisons greatly. 

0--0--0

It finally happens when they’re staring at the penguins and the penguins are staring back at them. Justin feels the eyes on him and glances behind him to see a small girl, wearing a Penguins jersey, staring at them - well at Olli - with her mouth hanging open. Olli has taken his toque off in the heat of the aquarium area, and his blonde hair is rumpled but stands out just from its sheer lack of colour, and he’s laughing as he points out one penguin squabbling with another over a pebble. 

“Mom… mom…. It’s Olli!” the little girl stammers delightedly with the kind of volume the Consol PA system would be proud of. Justin’s sure the nearest penguins (the feathered, fluffy ones) actually winced - he knows he and Olli did, both at the volume and the fact they’ve just been spotted. 

“Don’t be silly hone… oh!” her mom starts to speak soothingly, only to see the object of her daughter’s excitement and stutter to a halt herself. Justin glances at Olli and starts to edge away from him, trying to disassociate himself before he too is recognised. 

“Don’t you dare,” mutters Olli from between gritted teeth in Justin’s direction. “If I’m doing this so are you or you know what you won’t be doing later!” 

Justin freezes. Of course Olli would chose to be be acutely aware of him at this moment. 

The mother and daughter are moving closer, which is in turn attracting more attention as the small collection of people in the area realise there are hockey playing Penguins amongst them. For the first time, Justin realises what everyone’s meant when they’ve said Pittsburgh is a hockey town - everyone seems to be aware of who the Penguins are and knows who Olli is, even if thankfully they haven’t recognised him and he lets himself fade a little, still remaining by Olli, but content to let Olli have the limelight as he chats and smiles and signs thing with a sharpie he’s pulled from somewhere. 

Then one of the dads glances at him and then does a double take. “You’re Justin aren’t you? Justin Schultz! We traded for you from Edmonton. What do you think of Pittsburgh?”

Just like that, he’s engulfed in a group of Penguin fans as well, all of whom want to be told good things about their city and their team, by a stranger coming in with fresh eyes and new perceptions. Fortunately, it’s easy to oblige them, to tell them how great the city is, how good the team is, how much he’s looking forward to the playoffs. 

They’re able to extract themselves after 20 minutes, leaving behind a happy group of fans, shouting well wishes for the playoffs to them. The girl - Melissa - who had started it all off now sports both Justin and Olli’s signatures on her jersey and she’s hugging it to herself like she never wants to take it off. 

“Let’s get out of here,” Olli says quietly, tension dripping from his shoulders as they move away from the fans. Justin understands - it’s fun meeting fans, feeling their enthusiasm but emotionally, it takes a toll, watching what you say, projecting positivity no matter what, ignoring their stupid or intrusive questions or comments. At least no-one here had tried to tell them how to fix the power play, or what he needed to do to play better. 

“Yeah, let’s go home,” Justin replies. “I think we’re done here, and we’ve got other things planned. I hope.” 

He glances over to Olli who smirks back at him, and just like that, they’re speeding up as they walk out towards the car park.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Piccolo Forno does exist, but I have no idea what it's like, so don't take this as a restaurant suggestion! It just fitted the story very well, being a small, well reviewed place that wasn't city centre. 
> 
> Next chapter should be up a week on Saturday...


	44. Rest and Recuperation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's an off-day.. they're done with the zoo and they don't have a game for four days. How are two guys going to entertain themselves?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Porn.. all porn... skip if it's not your thing!

Back in the car, there’s a tension there which hadn’t been there before. Justin slides sideways in his seat, back against the door so he can watch Olli, who glances across at him, before flicking his attention back on the road. 

“So are we going to do this then?” Justin asks. 

“Do you want to?” Olli replies. 

“Fuck, yeah Olli, why would I not want to? I’d have to be crazy not to want to. Is there anything I’ve done that makes you think I don’t find you hot?”

Olli blushes a little at that, eyes focussed on the road resolutely. “Well it hadn’t really come up before.”

“It’s come up plenty!” Justin says before his brain can engage. “Sorry..” he starts to say, but Olli is smirking in response. “No, I didn’t bring it up because I was worried about your injury. After what happened.. You know..” he trails off, because he hadn’t wanted to do anything which could set Olli back. 

“I thought it might be that,” Olli replies. “We’re good, cleared for all forms of contact - trainers told me!” His smirk widens and he shoots another half glance out of the corner of his eye to get Justin’s reaction to that. 

“You asked about sex?!” Justin says. His voice comes out kind of strangled, not the calm, mature tone he’d hoped for. “You asked if we could have sex?”

“No,” Olli sounds a bit impatient. “But if I’m cleared for Ovechkin running me into the boards, well, that can’t be any less damaging than being fucked. In fact more so, given where the injury was. So I figure I’m cleared for fucking too.”

He glances over to Justin again, quickly, gaze darting over him before returning to the road. “Besides, if you’re worried, we could always take it slow…. Might even be more fun than a fast, hard fuck. Feeling you sliding slowly inside me, inch by inch. Feeling everything you do to me.”

“Olli!” Justin gasps, voice getting even higher pitched. He shifts in his seat, still staring at Olli. “You’re unbelievable. But hold it for the apartment, I don’t want to have to cross the car park trying to hide a hard on!”

A smile ghosts across Olli’s lips, before he licks them and just like that Justin is focussed in on those too, shifting again in his seat as his half hard cock makes itself known. He tries to think of unsexy things, but Olli is sitting there, looking as innocent as an angel and talking sexy as sin and it’s hard to concentrate. He glances out the window, hoping to recognise something he sees which means they’ll be close to home, hoping to see something to distract him. 

Olli laughs. “Ok, I’ll be good - for now! We couldn’t have you crossing the car park with a hard on, could we?” 

“You’re a fucking tease!” 

Olli makes a noise of assent, finally - finally - turning into their apartment block’s car park. There’s silence in the car while he parks it. 

“Sure you’re good to go?” Olli is grinning over at Justin, but there’s a challenge there too. 

“Fuck you, Olli!” Justin opens the car door, gets out into the car park but not before he hears a muttered “Yeah, that’s the idea” in response. 

Somehow the walk across the car park becomes a run, and then a sprint up to Olli’s apartment, with them tumbling through the door after Olli unlocks it, a little breathless. And from there, it just seems natural to be pushed up against the wall by Olli, being kissed hard and kissing hard back, and there’s no teasing now, just the feel of lips against lips and tongue against tongue and Justin finds himself sinking into Olli, the world blurring out around them, all there is is Olli and the feel of Olli and the taste of Olli and the sounds of Olli and the smell of Olli. 

Olli breaks them apart. “C’mon,” he says, taking Justin’s hand and leading him towards his bedroom. Justin follows willingly; too willingly in fact, catching up with him and wrapping his free arm around Olli’s waist, nuzzling into his neck, causing Olli to pant out a hard gust of breath. 

“Bedroom,” Olli says insistently but he’s arching his neck to the side to give Justin more access so Justin takes the hint, running his tongue up Olli’s neck and finding his earlobe, licking and suckling on it. Olli somehow stretches out his neck even more, letting out a long breathy exhale which goes right to Justin’s groin. He’s trying to get skin contact with his hand, working his way through Olli’s of clothing, burrowing in and he can’t find Olli’s skin, it’s too complicated while he’s also trying to concentrate on Olli’s earlobe, to get more of those good sounds from Olli and it’s frustrating because he wants to find it now, to feel Olli’s skin under his hand. 

“Justin, we can get our clothes off in the bedroom,” Olli says, catching up Justin’s free hand and starting to tow him forward again. 

“You’re the one who stopped!” complains Justin. 

“You were sucking my ear, it was hard to concentrate,” but finally they are into Olli’s room and he spins around to face Justin, dropping Justin’s hands so they come to rest on Olli’s hips. Justin kind of likes them there, likes the feel of Olli in his arms, likes it even more when Olli moves closer and kisses him, sliding his hands through Justin’s hair and tilting his head to a better angle for a deeper kiss. Justin feels a shiver down his spine at the feel of Olli’s hands in his hair, but finally, finally he’s found his way through Olli’s clothes, gets his hands in contact with Olli’s skin, slipping them onto his lower back and lower, down onto his ass, Olli’s skin soft and warm to the touch, but with firm muscle underneath. 

He loses himself for a moment, caught in the joy of just kissing Olli and feeling him under his hands, but soon he’s becoming aware of how quickly his cock is getting hard, how this isn’t enough, fantastic though it feels. But he doesn’t want to stop either. 

It’s Olli who eventually moves back, lips pink and gorgeous from the kissing. He doesn’t go far, just enough so he can stretch off, shucking out of both tops at once, giving Justin an eyeful of his creamy white chest, muscles taut and moving under his skin as he stretches, trying to free his arms. Without thinking about it, Justin finds himself running one hand along the line of Olli’s ribs, fingertip touch only, other hand helping steady him behind. 

“I’m trying to undress here,” comes a muffled voice from within where Olli is still fighting with his clothes. “You’re not helping.” 

“Enjoying the view though,” Justin grins, leaning forward to lick at one of Olli’s nipples, hard and pebbled due to the sudden exposure to air. Olli jumps at his touch and curses, but it tails off into almost a wail as Justin sucks down onto the nipple. The tension in Olli’s body builds up as suddenly he’s tearing the tangled tops off his head to the sound of ripping, before he relaxes into Justin’s grasp, leaning back slightly to improve Justin’s access, hair tousled and messy, eyes bright. 

Olli’s breathing is becoming harsher as Justin continues to play with his nipples and after a particularly loud gasp from him, Olli's hands are in his hair tugging his head upwards for a kiss. The kiss is hard and deep, and then Justin feels a hand at his crotch, rubbing and he arches into it with a groan, loving the feel of it on his hard cock. Olli just kisses him harder, and it’s Justin’s turn to feel a bit breathless, eventually breaking the kiss to groan “Olli” into his mouth. Olli moves away a little. 

“You’ve too many clothes on,” he says, giving Justin’s pants a tug. “Do you want to take them off?”  
It seems like a really good idea if it’s going to get Olli’s hands onto his cock sooner, so he starts to strip quickly, then sees Olli watching him and slows a little. Yeah, hockey players are all muscley, but Olli looks like he’s enjoying the show, but even with that, it’s not long before Justin is standing before Olli, naked and hard. 

“If you want to get fucked, your pants are going to have to come off too,” Justin looks at the offending article, and just like that, Olli is shucking out of them too, moving back to pull Justin onto the bed with him, before diving into his night. 

For a time, it’s just touching and feeling and tasting without purpose, just to hear and feel, just for the pleasure of it. Justin discovers that Olli loves to have his earlobes sucked while his cock is jacked slowly, sending shudder after shudder through him making him cry out Justin’s name, voice thick with accent and desire. Justin forces himself to slow it down, to stop though. Olli wants to be fucked and Justin wants to fuck him and selfishly he doesn't want to get Olli off before that. Not on their first time. 

He slides his hand down to rest against Olli’s hole, fingers circling it lightly. 

“Lube?” he asks. Olli sighs, with a shudder, settling a little. 

“Drawer,” Olli replies, nodding towards the nightstand behind Justin. Justin rolls his eyes a little at that, as he twists backwards to paw the drawer open, pulling at a tube which he feels could be lube.. It is. With a sigh he turns his attention back to Olli, sliding down so he’s between Olli’s legs. 

“How do you want to do this?” he asks. He wants to finger Olli open, but only if Olli wants that too. 

“I want to see you,” Olli says. “Is that ok?” For the first time today, he looks a little anxious. Justin grins back in reassurance, moves forward to kiss him, hands bracketing his head. 

“Oh yeah,” he replies. “Olli, why wouldn’t I want to see all of this?” and he skims one hand lightly down Olli’s side and flank as he kisses him, moves forward and feels Olli’s cock brushing his own and oh, that feels so good, he just has to do it again. 

But it’s not long until Olli protests. “If you keep doing that… I’m too close.” His eyes are shut and his skin is flushed a rosy pink against the darker moles and he looks like a debauched angel. And sure enough, Olli’s cock is hard and leaking steadily now. 

Justin moves back, settling onto his heels, reaching for the lube again. 

“I’ve got you,” he mutters, kissing the inside of Olli’s knee gently, as he squeezes some of the lube it, rubbing it around to warm it a little before he starts to rub at Olli’s hole, just lightly at first, getting it used to the feel. Olli’s eyes are open now, watching him brightly, so he pushes it in, gently, but the sound Olli makes as it pushes in causes his own cock to jump and he wants to hear that again, see what other noises he can get out of Olli. 

He works his way up until he has three fingers in, and Olli is moving beneath him now as he plays with the rim, stretching it, sliding his fingers in and out. He can’t help it, he has to lean forward and trace Olli’s muscles on his chest and stomach, pink and flushed as they are, with his tongue, sliding his tongue briefly over his nipples to hear Olli gasp. 

He pulls back as he finally crooks his fingers, seeking the spot… and yeah, as he finds Olli’s prostrate, Olli cries out, and that’s such a good noise that he has to do it again.

“Will you fucking - fuck Justin - fuck me?” Olli hisses. That kind of does it for Justin; he wants to be inside Olli now, feel how Olli feels when he’s around him and the urgency of that desire has him wrapping some more lube around his dick before lining up and pushing in. 

It’s almost too much - he doesn’t know if he wants to watch Olli’s face, catch every movement and feeling as Justin does this, or stare at his own cock as it disappears slowly inside Olli. In the end though, it’s not really a contest as he watches Olli’s face, every movement, every twitch as he reacts to what Justin’s doing. That helps Justin’s desire, his need just to start thrusting, to push in and see what the tantalising feeling of being inside Olli can become. He keeps things slow, a tease that’s almost unbearable for him, anchoring himself in the way Olli pants, in the way his lips twitch whenever Justin goes a bit deeper, but fuck, it feels good, really good, and it would feel better if he could go faster, harder… 

It seems to take forever and no time at all though until he’s all the way in, and Olli’s wrapping a hand around his neck to bring him in for a breathy messy kiss. They lie like that for a moment, forehead to forehead, and then Olli’s pushing up onto Justin. 

“Feels really good,’ he slurs into Justin’s ear, breath warm over it, “I need you to move now.”

Justin tries to take it slow at first, changing his angle, letting his cock drag a little, trying to find Olli’s sweet spot again, but the delightful drag of flesh over flesh, warm and tight feels oh so good. It’s hard to remember what he’s trying to do and not just get lost in it, to give into the siren call of going harder, deeper, faster, knowing how much better it will be if he does that. Then Olli’s lighting up, a breathy moan and hand clutching into Justin’s shoulder letting him know that Justin’’s got the spot and so he does it again and the hand clutches harder so he can let himself go a little, start to drive in, trying to remember what he was doing to hit it.

Justin builds his rhythm and the pleasure is coursing through him, senses caught on the feel and the look and the sound of Olli, even on the smell, and the memory of his taste, but it’s the feel and the sounds which are overwhelming him.   
He slides one hand down and around Olli’s cock, trying to jack it in time to his thrusting although that’s fucking difficult so he gets as close as he can, driven by a steady stream of moaned words and curses coming from Olli and then Olli’s jerking up into his hand, come spurting over his hand and the sudden hot, tight clench around his own cock is enough to explode bliss through him in pulsing waves and he’s calling Olli’s name as he comes so hard…. 

He comes out of his bliss-driven daze, slumped forward over Olli, face cradled into his neck, and Olli running his hand gently up and down Justin’s back. Since it’s there, he kisses Olli’s neck gently, unsure how to express what he’s feeling right now, not sure if his mouth will actually be able to form words. Olli turns his head, kisses Justin’s forehead, sweetly. 

“So good, Justin,” he mutters. “That was so good.”

“Not me, babes. That was all you,” Justin finds his voice does work. “You’re amazing. Fuck Olli, you’re so gorgeous.” 

Olli giggles. “That’s just the endorphins speaking. No-one’s ever called me gorgeous before.” 

“Have the guys you’ve been with been blind or something? They should have done. You are gorgeous. And no, this is not just the endorphins speaking, you’re gorgeous and sexy all the time.”

If no-one has told Olli this before, then it’s a travesty. Justin’s going to have to say something when he’s not all blissed out, so that Olli knows it’s not just about the endorphins, that Justin genuinely feels that about Olli. 

There’s another soft kiss pressed to his forehead. “Thanks pupu. You’re really hot too.”

Justin snorts. “My missing tooth really adds to my roguish charm.”

There’s an answering snort from Olli in response to that. “What are you going to do about that?”

“If the hockey gods have claimed my tooth in our quest for the Stanley Cup, who am I to intervene? I’ll get it sorted in the off season. I don’t mind it during games, but I’m not sure I’m willing to go toothless all the time - it’s kind of in your face and my mom won’t like it. But no point in thinking about it now, we’ve got more important things to be thinking of.” 

“Like cleaning up.”

“I was thinking of the Stanley Cup,” Justin replies. “But yeah, cleaning up should be on that list as well, shouldn’t it? And maybe some more of this…” and he leans over and kisses Olli. 

“More of that, definitely,” Olli mutters back, between kisses. “After clean up.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So apologies for the slowness in this chapter appearing, it felt like it was dragged, word by word, out of my subconscious. Just really hard going to write... but done now! 
> 
> And just in time to watch the Pens/Oilers later.... Please Justin, get a hat trick!


	45. Stop breaking your goalies

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The team is preparing to meet the Rangers in the playoffs but of course with the Pens, it can't be plain sailing...

Justin feels almost eager to get to practice the next day. In addition to practice, they’ve got a video session timetabled - in fact they have several over the next few days - as Sully prepares them to meet the Rangers over several games. It’s a different approach from the regular season, where they have little opportunity to adapt to how another team plays so Justin wants to see how it works, keen to experience something he’s not done before. 

The locker room is pretty relaxed and light hearted. They’re officially out of the regular season and still playing and it does feel good. They’ve got a few days of no games, they had a day off yesterday - life is good. 

Or at least it is, until the mongooses arrive. From the get go, it’s clear they’re not in tune with the locker room mood - faces are set and unhappy, and they are quiet and contained, barely speaking. There are concerned looks passed around the room as those already pick up on it. 

“Guys, what’s up?” Cully is the first to acknowledge it and Justin realises he’s the right person to ask the question. 

Tommy looks up from where he’s sorting his pads on his lap before he puts them on. 

“Fucking Flyers!” is all he says, before he goes back to the tangle in his lap. 

Justin catches Cully flashing a look of confusion towards Sid, Sid shrugging his own bemusement back with a slight tilt of his shoulders. It’s an appropriate sentiment in the Pens locker room at any time, but it doesn’t really answer why the mongooses are upset. 

“What have they done now?” Cully perseveres. 

“Murrs!” Tommy gestures to the goalie stalls which now look very, very empty, just Tishy there, settling his leg pads into place. It’s getting late, Murrs should be there by now too. Tommy however is looking around the room, seeing the reactions. “You guys haven’t heard? Oh shit, I thought you’d know. Murrs got concussed in the game with the Flyers, when the cheating fuckers ran him. Symptoms showed up yesterday, he’s in the protocol right now.”

Just like that, the good feeling in the room evaporates. 

“Fuck the Flyers,” growls Tanger, a sentiment which is quickly echoed. 

But it’s more than that. They’d been building up trust in Murrs, that with Flower out, he could step into Flower’s large shoes and, if maybe not fill them, at least do enough to keep the team in contention. In the five games they’d played, that trust had been increasing as he’d found his feet and back-stopped the guys to wins. Now, he’s been taken from them and Tishy…. Well, Tishy is a great guy. But Justin can feel the worry inside at the thought of going into the playoffs with Tishy as their starting goalie. It’s a lot of pressure and expectation to put on a guy who’s a back-up goalie. No-one will say it out loud, but they don’t have the trust in Tishy that they had in Flower and they’d been building in Murray. 

Tishy himself is sitting in the corner, staring at the floor, biting his lip - and then he seems to realise the scrutiny he’s come under from the rest of the room. He sits up, draws his shoulders back, gives the room a big grin. 

“Guess they’ve saved the best till last!” 

He’s projecting confidence and they can’t help but respond to it, there’s a chorus of whoops and cheers. So long as they pretend it'll all be ok, maybe it will be? Hockey players have a lot of practice at that. 

“You’re going to be awesome Tishy. The Rangers are not going to know what’s hit them!” Horny is grinning at him from across the room, enthusiastic - and shirtless - as always. 

“We’re going to hit them everywhere we can - on the boards, on the ice, in the net. We’re going to give Lundqvist a complex about black and gold!” Kuni is fierce and determined as he says it. 

“Too right babe,” replies Cully. “He’ll be having nightmares about us. Tishy is going to own Henrik!” 

The chorus of agreement from the room is getting progressively louder at each statement as the guys psyche their way back into the mindset they’d had before they’d heard the news; even the mongooses are relaxing and starting to look more excited. Justin catches Sid looking around the room with a satisfied nod. 

“None of that is going to happen without the necessary preparation,” Sid says though. “So get your butts on the ice for practice.” He stands and walks out, bow-legged on his skates. Tanger stands up to join him but stops, biting his lip. 

“D only meeting later,” he says quietly, seriously. “We need to talk about this.” He turns and waddles out. Justin peeks a look at Olli to see how he’s taking that, to see Olli looking at him. He shrugs slightly; it is what it is, then goes back to checking his pads are settled before pulling on his practice jersey. By that time Olli is also standing, ready to head to the ice, so they walk out the room together. 

0--0--0

Once out there though, Justin is quickly reminded of something he’d been trying to forget. They have eight healthy defencemen now that Olli is back in practice as normal, and they will only ice 6. He’s paired with Poo, so it’s clear that he and Poo are seen as the extraneous pair - which is not a good place to be. 

Olli’s clearly very happy to be back in full practice, back with the team again. Justin can see his happiness and satisfaction in everything he does on the ice and of course Justin is happy that he’s back too. He doesn't want a place on the team at Olli’s expense. He just wants to be on the team and not scratched, to get to play in the play-offs. He knows it’s a lot to ask, given what he’s done this year, but he’s here now and it’s tantalisingly close. 

They’d told him he’d be fighting for a place when he came in and although he knows he’s improved, that he’s no longer fucking up so much on the ice, he’s still not as good as the guys who can actually do things well. He’s fighting for a place with the guys who have been with the Penguins for much longer, who have good reputations, who are good hockey players. He knows he still isn't. 

But somehow, in his excitement at coming into practice today, to start the preparation for the playoffs, he’d forgotten the team’s situation, had forgotten his place on a line was no longer there and seeing that on ice, being on the extra pair and all that that means is like a hard body check, his excitement slipping away to leave an all too familiar despondency. He tries not to let it get to him, keeps working, head down (but also up), but it’s hard. All he can do is try to fall back on old habits, of staying in the moment, not thinking bigger picture. He focuses on the coaches, the drills, his pair and tries to think of nothing else. 

He’s mostly successful, which he counts as a win. 

0--0--0

The team has a bit of time before the video session, and most of them opt to grab lunch in the rest room, or head to do some gym work after practice. Olli looks longingly in that direction, but Tanger carefully corrals the D, herding them into the empty video room. He’s just shutting the door, all eight of them safely gathered when Sid slips through it, nodding acknowledgement and moving towards one of the seats towards the rear. 

“Finally seen the light and joining the D Sidney?” Tanger asks. There’s a slight edge to his tone, like he hadn’t expected this. On a certain level, Justin isn’t surprised though. It’s Sid’s team; while Tanger may effectively lead the D and see them as his, they’re also all Sid’s. 

“Just wanted to be here to show support for all your efforts.” Sid’s tone is light, disarming, conciliatory. “It’s your show, I’m here to listen.” 

“Ok then,” Tanger sounds mollified and is just turning towards the rest of the group when the door opens and Jacques Martin, their defensive coach, slips in. 

“Jacques,” acknowledges Tanger. 

Jacques nods in return. “Sorry to jump in like this on a players’ meeting, but we heard you were having it and thought it would be a good idea if I came along too. This group is going to be very important to the team in the coming days, and we wanted to show that we’re here to support you too. It’s obviously not my meeting, it’s for you guys to run, but I’ll chip in if I have anything to say.”

Tanger ducks his head courteously in response, hair wafting around his cheekbones, only to be shoved back by an impatient hand. 

“Ok,” Tanger drawls, “Now we all seem to be here, we’ve obviously got a situation with our goalies. Tishy is an experienced goalie and we’ve played in front of him all year but this isn't the regular season, we can't afford to lose any games now.”

“So we need to go into this prepared to help him and all our goalies as much as possible. They’ll want to get shots on him, to test him. We need to try and keep the puck away from the goal, to insulate it as much as possible. Be first to the rebounds to clear them, get to the boards first for loose pucks, be hard to play against and get the puck moving north as soon as we can.” 

“We know that’s what we need to do; the coaches tell us, we know we can win when we do that. But we need to commit, as a group to doing that - for Tishy, for our goalies through the playoffs. We joke about being the engine of the team but in the game, we have to be that engine - to be the firm platform for the forwards, to be the fence around Tishy to let him make the saves he needs to.”

“You know what they say about us in the rest of the league - we’re a ‘no-name’ defence that doesn’t deserve to be here. We’re going to take those comments and make them choke on them. But to do that, we need to work harder than we’ve worked before - we need to work together and work together well.”

Justin finds himself being carried by Tanger’s determination, the steel in his voice as he explains what they are going to do as a unit for the playoffs. Jacque is looking approving, not saying anything; Sid is nodding along to Tanger’s points, but this is about the D themselves recognising that even more will be needed from them for the playoffs. This is them reaffirming their role, accepting that with the change in netminder, they’re going to have to give even more. 

Listening to Tanger, there is no way for them to not do this - he draws them in, convinces them, threatens them, charms them and browbeats them all at the same time until they can’t possibly do anything other but agree with him and commit to it wholeheartedly. There’s no way that Justin will cross Tanger on this - and nor does he want to disappoint him, to do less than has been asked and let Tanger and the team down. Tanger won’t ask any less of them than he asks of themselves. 

“Clear?” Tanger asks, as he draws to a close. “Any questions?”

The defencemen exchange quick glances amongst each other, trying to work out if it’s wise to ask anything if anyone does have any questions. But it seems no-one has any, even if they wanted to risk asking them with Tanger like this. 

Tanger glances around the room. “Sid, Jacques, anything to add?” His gaze is slightly challenging. 

“Just a reminder that while we need your support, the forwards are here to support you too. You know how we’ve concentrated on support on and off the puck. The way we play, we don’t have a strictly defined role; so as you have to be there for us and for each other, we have to be there for you too,” Sid replies earnestly. “We will be there too; we’re not going to let the team down.”

Tanger nods at that. 

Jacques clears his throat. “Nothing much from me; you're taking responsibility for this and we thought you would and we’re proud of the way you’re approaching this. Murr’s injury is a set back but we know the team will pull together on this. But just one thought on what's been said about you - what Tanger said about being called a ‘no-name’ defence. It's a good position to be in when people underestimate you. If the work you have done and the challenges you’ve overcome this year have been overlooked then that's good for us. It gives us an edge when they start to realise what we can do. So I hope they keep on describing us as a ‘no-name’ defence and then, as Tanger says, we can shove it down their throats as they realise their mistake.”

“Fuck yeah!” exclaims Colesy and there’s a series of grunts and nods around the room. None of these guys deserve such a dismissive descriptor and Justin hopes they are able to prove what they can do. 

0--0--0

Having hyped themselves up through that, video almost seems a bit tame, particularly after the day so far, but it gives them a chance to focus in their own play and the play of the Rangers. Sully is great at breaking down the Rangers’ play, identifying patterns which they hope to be able to exploit, building on their own plays Sully sees as being successful. But he also takes the time to catch them up where the coaches have spotted things going wrong, and no-one is spared his dry ‘So what do we think went wrong here?’ question. It manages to be about learning; although one of his plays from the Flyers game comes in for a review, he’s able to focus on listening to what he could do better and how the players around could have assisted when it started to go wrong. But as always with video, if you get hauled over the coals, you also get one of your plays in the ‘Star plays of the week’ section so he doesn’t feel like the coaches are down on him. It really feels like it’s about learning and not about blame, and Justin really appreciates the difference. 

Still, it’s been an emotionally demanding day and he’s happy when it’s done, and he can jump into Olli’s car and head home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We need a Pens win tonight and we need to find some goals tonight... and hopefully Justin's back from injury?


	46. Pre-playoffs

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> They're working hard getting ready for the playoffs and Justin has to accept that he might not play in them after all...

The rest of the week passes in a blur; of practice and video and skate and eating and rehab of strains and aches and bruises. Justin has held up relatively well; lower minutes and games sat out giving him fewer end of season niggles. There are guys on the team a lot worse off than him, but he appreciates the chance to recover and heal, all of the team spending time with the trainers, trying to get as healthy as they can in the off days. 

But it’s also a time for being at home, of no travel, of spending time with Olli and also with the rest of the team. They have their usual Wednesday meet up and chill - on a Tuesday as the playoffs start on the Thursday. Rusty reschedules it with an eyeroll, obviously put out at the NHL’s incompetence at scheduling to make the team change their long established plans. But Murrs is able to attend, showing them he’s well on the path to recovery and Flower is also there, still drinking water but bitching and chirping and being impossible like usual; only the fact he leaves after two and a half hours (and several phone calls from Vero) showing there’s anything still wrong. In fact it’s almost a full team turnout and a good chance to relax as the pressure builds in advance of the playoffs starting. Even Tanger is there, eyeing the pool table longingly and looking at Justin meaningfully, but surprisingly it’s Geno who puts his foot down when he starts to suggest a rematch.

“Tonight for hanging out, Tanger, not beating each other.” 

Tanger mocks him, but shrugs and steps away from the table. 

It’s a fun night, and just good to spend more time with the team in a relaxed way. Justin feels at home amongst them now, like he’s fitted in and been there much longer than he actually has. 

Of course, for Justin the pressure and the excitement of the playoffs coming is kind of muted. He wants to start the playoffs - but he’s going to be doing it from the bench. It’s something he’s working to accept. He’s trying not to let that knowledge get to him, to feed his fears of being a bad hockey player. He’d known this was the deal when they traded for him - it had been explained to him on the first day. He’s not good enough to be in the top six and he knows that. But he discovers that somewhere inside, hope had been growing he wasn’t a bad hockey player. Now it’s been reconfirmed that he is, the disappointment is sharp and cutting. He’s a placeholder only - someone only good enough to get onto the team when there are no other options. Barely NHL level and he shouldn’t have started to think he was anything better. 

It’s hard to keep that knowledge, the shame of it, hidden away. Somehow, during practice, he’s able to keep focussed on practice and what the coaches are saying. He still wants to try to improve, even though he feels it’s hopeless. He’s worked hard all year, even harder since coming to Pittsburgh and has nothing to show for it. 

He keeps catching puzzled looks from Olli which means he’s not as good at hiding how he’s feeling as he’d hoped to be. He doesn’t say anything though, not wanting to dim Olli’s own excitement for the play-offs, manages to divert and duck whenever Olli tries to raise it, pass it off as nerves. Olli accepts that explanation doubtfully and no-one else on the team seems to notice so he can’t be doing too bad a job of masking how he’s feeling. But there’s times he manages to forget, like when his skates are cutting into the ice during a practice scrimmage and he pulls off a nice move to a shouted appreciation from the coaches - and then he remembers and the dull ache that had slowly vanished during his time in Pittsburgh comes back again. 

0--0--0

On the last day before the playoffs begin, Sully pulls Justin aside. 

“We’re going to start you tomorrow,” he says, characteristically cutting through the bullshit. “We think having an extra defenceman is probably our best option tomorrow so we’re going eleven F and seven D. You’ve worked really hard, you’re playing the right way and you deserve the chance to play tomorrow, so make sure you’re ready for it. And have fun out there. Don't forget to enjoy the experience!” 

It's not often - if indeed ever - he's been told to enjoy himself with such a fierce glare. 

He must say the right things, because he finds himself standing in the corridor afterwards, dazed. He’s actually going to play in the playoffs. Sully thinks he’s deserving of playing! 

It's such a swift reversal of everything he's been thinking this week that he feels physically disoriented. Sully would never say those things unless he meant them. For Justin to play, Sully thinks the team is better if he's on the ice. 

It's just too sudden a reversal from everything he's been thinking through this week. He starts to move down the corridor, stumbles into someone he doesn't even see, mumbles an apology automatically. 

“Hey, don't worry babe, are you ok?” It's Cully asking him, voice bright and sure and confident. “No, you're not, are you? C’mere Justin, just follow me.” As Cully has answered himself his voice has gentled and Justin finds himself steered into one of the treatment rooms nearby. 

“What's up Justin?” 

“I'm playing tomorrow.” He mumbles it, staring at the floor, refusing to meet Cully’s eyes. He’s kind of embarrassed he's attracted Cully’s attention, that Cully is wasting his time on Justin. 

“Of course you…” Cully trails off. “Oh,” he says and Justin risks a peek at him to see what's changed his tone, to see Cully gazing into space. “You didn't think you would be?” His eyes have sharpened as they shift to meet Justin’s. He slides his own away from Cully’s, finding the floor again. 

“Olli’s back. I didn't think I would be.” He keeps it simple, trying not to show it hurts to make that admission. “Sully’s just said I’ll be in and it caught me by surprise.”

He's happier that he sounds more with it now, pulling himself out of his shock so he risks another peek at Cully but Cully is frowning at him in concentration. 

“Sorry, I didn't mean to cause a fuss,” Justin ducks his head again. “I'm fine, honestly. It was just - I wasn't expecting it and it threw me for a moment. I'm good to go, honestly.”

“That's twice you've said honestly,” Cully notes absently. “Why weren't you expecting it? You must know you have as good a chance of anyone of being on the team.”

Justin stares at him. Why would he think he had a good chance of being on the team? 

“But Olli’s back,” he stammers. “They don’t need me for the D while their defence is uninjured.” 

Cully pauses a moment, waiting. Then he sighs and settles, perching on the edge of the desk. 

“Well obviously they think they do because you’re in tomorrow.” Cully says it with a smile, taking the sting out of it. “But you know you’re part of the D? It’s not the six guys and you, it’s the eight of you - that includes Poo too, although he’s got to work a lot harder to win his place. No-one’s place on the team is a sinecure - we’re all out there proving it every night. There was no certainty that as Ben and Olli came back that they’d automatically get their place on the line-up back and you’d be dropped. You’ve been there and you’ve been playing well and you’ve given Sully a difficult enough decision that he’s scratching a forward because he wants you in the line-up, because of what you’ve brought to the team.” 

He looks at Justin hard and Justin looks back, listening but not sure if he can believe it. It sounds fine, and logically he knows it should be correct; he’s just not sure he can believe that he could even be considered for the team over someone who plays like Ben or Olli or Colesy. But Cully is waiting like he has all the time in the world, and he’s waiting on Justin saying something. 

“I guess..” he says doubtfully. “I mean, yeah, Sully has put me in the line-up so he wants me out there - it’s just hard to accept he thinks I’d be a better option than the other guys who are benched.”

“Hmmm, why wouldn’t you be?” Cully asks. “Do you think you’re still playing like you were in Edmonton?”

“No!” exclaims Justin, surprising himself at the vehemence of his answer. His play in Edmonton was so different - error ridden and unsure and unconfident. He’d become afraid of the puck, afraid of what he might do. While he knows he might not be fully there yet, at least he knows that sometimes what he can do with the puck is good, that sometimes he’s lucky and things he tries work.

“No?” queries Cully and Justin almost sighs, as he’s going to have to try to explain some of that and he doesn’t know quite how. He takes a breath and tries. 

“No. In Edmonton I’d got to the point where I was hesitant and hesitating and couldn’t see the plays anymore. I’d get lost wondering what would be the best thing and worrying about the worst thing and end up not really doing anything or doing something bad because I’d run out of time. Here, the coaches have got me so I’m actually playing again - like I can’t always do it, but sometimes I can take the puck and see what I want to do with it, see the plays I want to try and make,” he says, hesitantly, hoping Cully understands. 

From the bright smile Cully gives him, he does. “Yeah, and we can see that in your play. I love the way you are always looking around, even before you get the puck, looking for what you have available; makes it easier for us to try to get into place as you’re looking around so we’re giving you those outlets. Hockey sense is a good trait to have in a player but it's hard to teach. You can do it and you do it well - why wouldn't Sully want that on the ice? It's pretty key to how our team operates.”

His smile is kind and Justin can feel some of his doubts being melted away by the warm sincerity in it. 

“I guess,” he says. “But I'm not as good at defending and everyone says you can't win the Cup without defence.” 

“We need a selection of skills from our defence. A defence where everyone played the same wouldn't be that good,” Cully counters. “Sully and Jacques get paid the big bucks to figure out how to make it work. Besides babe, you’re being too hard on yourself about your defending. I’ve seen how hard you’ve been working with Sarge to improve it.”

“Besides,” he continues, “do we really give a fuck what everyone else says? Everyone else said the Pens were bad, that Sid was too old and couldn’t do it, that we wouldn’t make the playoffs. Everyone was wrong. Why should we carry on believing them now? We trust in each other and we trust in Sully. Even if you can’t have faith in yourself, have faith in Sully. Anyone who can do what he’s done with the team in the last five months deserves it. So tomorrow, go out there and trust in Sully and just play no matter what. We’ve been climbing mountains all season and we’re still going and going well. So enjoy it - it’s your first playoffs and it’s what we play all season long to do.” 

He smiles brightly at Justin and it’s just too infectious and Justin has to smile back. It’s still hard to do, but Cully really has done it all before and he’s right; while Justin might not have much faith in himself, he has a lot of trust in Sully and he needs to try to hold onto that and listen to what Cully is saying. Even if he can’t believe in himself, others can believe in him and he can try to trust them. 

“We good?” Cully asks, standing up from the table edge. 

“Yeah, thanks Cully,” he says heartfeltly. “You didn’t need to waste your time like this listening to me freak out, but I’m glad you did.”

Cully rolls his eyes. “I did need to do it because we’re team, and I wanted to do it. Now go find your young man and have a nice evening. Make sure you stay hydrated!” and he saunters off down the corridor, eyes twinkling with mirth. 

He knows about Olli, Justin realises. How does Cully know?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy Thanksgiving for those whose holiday it is! 
> 
> It isn't mine, but it seemed an appropriate time to post. And I'm thankful for the Pens, even after last night's game and the fact this weekend is likely to be rough too....


	47. Round 1 Game 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin plays his first play-off game...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this is a very bumper chapter because you've been waiting for it so patiently for so long so I wanted to give you a lot to say thank you for sticking with it. I could have split it into not hockey and hockey, but the not-hockey took a lot longer to write than the hockey. 
> 
> If you're not into the hockey descriptions, then you've about about half the chapter to enjoy before they start the game. There is one thing which happens in the game which is important, but you won't need to have read it to follow how that plays out in the next chapter (s).

That night, Justin finds himself really wired, restless and anxious. He heads over to Olli’s flat, where it’s Olli’s turn to cook dinner. Olli looks a bit more relaxed than Justin feels but quickly Justin realises it's just a facade. There's a tenseness in Olli’s movements and a strain to him which reminds Justin unpleasantly of how Olli had looked when he’d cut himself off from the team when he was injured. He hadn't realised it then, but watching Olli, Justin can see it now. 

The problem is he’s not quite sure what to do about it. But he can't ignore it either, he doesn’t like watching Olli when he’s upset, even if he’s trying to hide it. Olli shouldn’t have to hide it around him. So he thinks furiously as Olli bustles around the kitchen, prepping the food, trying to decide what to do about it. 

His first instinct is just to cuddle Olli, to hold him and reassure him that whatever it is will be ok. But reluctantly he comes to the conclusion that that might not be enough. He knows that Olli bottles things up and won't always tell anyone willingly about what's worrying him. So trying to get Olli to talk about it might be better, to stop him overthinking everything. Which also means that Justin is going to have to be the one to talk to him. He could get someone else on the team involved but it's the night before the playoffs and he doesn't want Olli to be left feeling like this for longer than he has to. So Justin’s going to have to step up and do it. 

Which still leaves him with the problem of how. He tries to remember how other people on the team have got him to open up and reaches in to try to channel his inner Duper.

He takes a breath and as Olli is chopping an onion starts. 

“You seem tense tonight.” He keeps his voice even and light, an observation, nothing more. 

Olli darts him a glance from under his lashes. 

“Playoffs” is his short response and inwardly, Justin sighs. “And I'm concentrating on making your dinner.” 

“What are you making?” 

Olli flushes, won’t meet Justin’s eye. “It's a thing from home; you haven't had it and I thought you might like it. Mom used to make it for us - it’s called nakkikastike - sausages cooked in sauce. We’re having it with mashed potatoes.”

“Sounds good!” Justin hopes he sounds enthusiastic enough, because his heart is sinking as he realises Olli is making himself Finnish comfort food. “You know I eat about anything, but it sounds good.”

Olli does relax a little at that, like he was expecting a more negative reaction from Justin. For a while Justin is content to watch Olli chopping his onions. 

“So making your mother’s food, is that a thing for you before the playoffs?” he asks once Olli has settled back into a rhythm. 

Olli shrugs. “I guess,” he says, and Justin has to stop himself eye-rolling. It’s almost like Olli has spent a lot of time on a team of people trained to not answer questions that they didn’t want to! 

“I just thought you might have your play-off routines, because you’d done this before.” 

“No, not really. Last time, it was my first NHL playoffs, so I just did whatever felt good in the run up,” Olli is matter of fact. “I don’t want to get too wedded to doing something. Last season, when I was injured and couldn’t even play in the playoffs, it taught me you never know how the season is going to end.”

“That’s true - look at me this year!” Justin can’t help but say it with a laugh, thinking of his own situation, which at least causes Olli to glance at him and smile a little in response. 

“Does it feel better or worse second time around?” Justin’s not even sure he’ll have a second time.. 

“I think it’s different?” Olli answers tentatively, sauteing the onions. “Like last time, I was just a kid, and there were no expectations on me. This time, yeah, that’s changed a lot.” 

“Expectations?” is all he answers, trying to keep him talking, now he seems to be opening up some. 

“Last time everyone knew I was a rookie, didn’t know how I’d react in the playoffs, anything I did well, it was golden. This time, I’m expected to be good, and when I won’t live up to those expectations…. “ He lets his voice trail off, shrugging, looking over towards Justin. His eyes are bleak, small furrow between them and his voice sounds bitter. 

Justin doesn’t want to see that look in Olli’s eyes, wants to make it go away instantly. He has to restrain himself from going over to cuddle Olli. He is going to cuddle the shit out of him later, but right now, he needs to keep Olli talking and he gets the feeling that if he makes any move, he’ll break the mood in the room and Olli could clam up again. 

“You sound as though you don’t think you can live up to the expectations. Do you think they are too high?”

“I don’t think the team… but…” and Olli gestures, a gesture that encompasses the space around the apartment - the city, the people. “Nothing I do is right for them. I’m not as good as they thought I was, and they don’t like me for it, they constantly expect more and when I don’t produce I must be a bad player.” He glances at Justin and his eyes are dark and bleak. “So the playoffs… it’s going to be a shit show when I don’t play how they want me to play and I’m not good enough for them again.”

He looks glumly at the onions heating in the pan, giving them a desultory stir. 

“Olli,” Justin says softly, his heart breaking. “They’re wrong. You are a good defenceman, you’re a key defenceman for the team. The people who say all that crap about you don’t understand what you do, what you bring to the team in each game. You’re the stable support of the second pair, and you can play top pair as well when they need you to. If they can’t see what you bring to the ice, the problem lies with them, not with you. If they expect things from you that you can’t give them, you’re not the problem.”

He catches Olli flicking him a quick, uncertain glance, but he doesn’t say anything either in agreement or to argue what Justin’s said. 

“The coaches wouldn’t tell you anything other than what they think. There’s no way Sully thinks you aren’t living up to his expectations - sure he wants more, but coaches want more of everyone, all the time. I mean, they even tell Sid what more they want from him and how he can try to give it. But we never hear you're not meeting their expectations and there’s a difference and we know it. You know with Sully that if you’re not, then you’ll hear about it from him or Jacques. You listen and you try so fucking hard to give them more and you’re young and learning and improving. Fuck, I wish I’d worked as hard as you do; I’d be a much better player now. I know we have to keep earning our place, but you earn yours a thousand times over, every day you are out there on the ice.”

 

Olli is looking at him like how a goalie, down and out, might look at a defender who is trying to intercept a puck off the goal line - a mixture of hope and despair. 

“I found it’s really hard to build trust in yourself when you’ve lost confidence,” Justin continues. “If you feel like you can’t rely on yourself, rely on the people around you that you can trust. Don’t listen to the guys you know nothing about. Just because they’re saying what you’ve been thinking doesn’t make them right.”

Olli’s shoulders slump at that, but he nods. 

“It’s hard though,” and his voice is small and tight. “You try to stay positive but sometimes it’s like the only voices that matter are the bad ones. And as you listen to them, they get louder and there’s more of them and they’re harder not to listen to.” 

He looks at Justin and there’s an unwelcome shimmer in his eyes, and that does it for Justin, he’s across the room and taking an unresisting Olli in his arms before he’s even thought about it, because he can’t just stand there and watch Olli in tears without doing something to comfort him, cuddling him close, rubbing his back soothingly. 

“It’s so fucking hard babe, and you are so strong for not letting it affect your play. We don’t realise how you are feeling because we can’t believe you’d think like that because you’re such a good player and you’re good at keeping up a facade. You’re so unbelievably strong, even if you don’t feel it. You might not see that, but we do. Everyone who knows you sees how you battle to be the best you can. You're the hardest working person on the team.” 

He continues trying to sooth Olli as best he can, muttering about how strong and brave and unbelievable Olli is, as Olli clings on like he’s drowning and lets him. 

It doesn’t seem to take long though before Olli’s pulling away, scrubbing at his eyes. 

“I'm sorry.. I didn't mean….you shouldn't..”

Somehow Justin is able to interpret what Olli is brokenly trying but not managing to say. 

“Olli, after everything you've done for me, of course I want to be there for you if you need it. Don't try and shut me out or think what you are worrying about isn't important. If you're this worried and it's preying on you, I'm here for you. You've helped me such a lot, you wouldn't believe how much. Let me repay some of that.”

He gives Olli’s shoulder a squeeze. Olli’s face has cleared a little at his words. 

“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll be fine, it's just the tension of waiting on the playoffs starting.”

“I know you’ll be fine but I want to be there to support you as you supported me.”

Olli tries to smile. “It doesn’t feel so bad now.”

“Talk to me babe when it gets too heavy, when it feels like it's piling on too much. Or if not me some of the other guys. We’re really lucky to have a team that cares so much for each other.”

Olli looks at him meaningfully. “Different from the Oilers?”

“Night and day! So really don't undervalue it - most of what I know about talking about stuff I’ve learned in the last six weeks from you guys. And Ebs of course, but he was a friend, not just a teammate.”

“They should be similar,” mutters Olli. 

Justin looks at him for a moment. At the moment, Olli really isn’t in a position to bitch at Edmonton, given what Justin’s just had to do. But he shrugs it off - perhaps if more of the guys had been willing to do this in Edmonton, it would have been better, so perhaps Olli does have the smallest point in the world. 

“Yeah, it would be better if it was like that, but it isn’t. Which is one reason why I’m glad to be here,” he replies lightly. 

Olli smiles slightly at that. “I’m glad you’re here too.” And then he blushes slightly and pulls away, grabbing at the spoon to stir the onions some more. But he’s more relaxed, not so tense and Justin feels that he’s done all he can for now. 

0--0--0

The dinner Olli cooked was good; sausages in a tangy tomato sauce, served with piles of creamy mashed potatoes. Justin kind of hopes it won’t come out only when Olli’s looking for comfort. 

Mindful of what they are doing the next day, they have as relaxing an evening as possible. Justin knows they watch something, a movie or something, cuddled up on the couch, but he actually couldn’t say what as he doesn’t retain any of it. 

Sleep is hard to come by; fitful and nervous. He doesn’t think Olli does much better - several times when he’s awake, he’s aware Olli is too, but they don’t speak, only cuddle closer. 

Eventually morning comes, grey light filtering into the bedroom; Justin is all too relieved to be able to get up and begin his day. It’s going to be amazing - it’s going to be terrifying. 

0--0--0

Several hours later, the time has finally come. The atmosphere even during warm-ups was making the hairs on the back of his neck stand-up. Justin can’t even begin to imagine what it’s going to be like out there when they’re playing for real. The room feels like tightly focussed exhilaration - there are a lot of taut faces around the lockers, guys going through pre-game routines with a deadly seriousness. 

Tanger checked in with all the D men, making sure to say a few words with each of them, checking they’re ok and ready for the battle ahead; over in the forwards corner, Cully is joking with the mongooses, teasing them about which of them is most likely to fall over with nerves as they go onto the ice. 

Justin watches them for a moment then slides his eyes down to check his laces and skate blades for at least the sixth time; they’re still secure and tight and as he likes them. Miraculously they haven’t come undone, his blades are sharp, his skates are fine. He smiles sheepishly to himself at his continual checking of something that he knows is how it should be, but feels the need to check it anyway just in case. 

Olli nudges him. 

“You’re going to be good tonight,” he mutters. He’s running his finger over the tape on his stick, checking for any flaw or imperfection and just the movement is enough to make Justin want to do the same. He tries to remind himself it’s no better nor worse than how it always is. 

“So are you,” Justin replies. “Defence are going to rock tonight.”

“That’s the truth!” says Rev catching his last words. “Rangers aren’t going to know what’s hit them!”

“Or who’s hit them,” says Colesy. 

Tanger watches them indulgently, just with a slight smile on his face. “We can do this. I’m fed up hearing about how bad we are. It’s time to show them how good we are!”

The room suddenly hushes as Sid loudly clears his throat, staring at them all. 

“Right, we’re here, this is it. We know what we can do and we just need to keep on doing it. Things are going to get tougher and harder but we can’t let that throw us off. There’s going to be a lot more pressure and every moment of every game is going to be important. We’ve got to be there for each other too - we’re a team and we live and die together out there. We have each other’s backs.”

“Some of you have been here before - some of you all the way to the end, and you know how hard it can be. Don’t get complacent just because you’ve been here before, we can’t know what’s going to happen next. And whatever you do, don’t give up until the final buzzer sounds.”

“For many of you, it’s your first ride. Take pride in being here, remember enjoy it and whatever you do, don’t give up until the final buzzer sounds. It’s not over until it is actually over, for good or bad. It will only be over before that if we give up on it so we can’t do that.” 

“But for all of us, we’re doing it for each other, we’re doing it for the team, those who can play and those who can’t. We can do this.”

Sid’s face is determined, his eyes bright. It’s not a rabble rousing speech - Justin’s not sure Sid could give one of those if he tried - but it’s a statement of intent, of determination. And he’s sure just about everyone’s eyes cut across to where Duper was standing when Sid mentioned ‘those who can’t play’. 

“Fuck yeah,” says Kuni. That starts a round of calls and exclamations of support. 

Then Sully steps forward and the room quietens again. 

“You’ve heard Sid; listen to him; he’s been here before and knows what it takes. But each and every one of you has the ability to do this too. I know you and I know you can do it. You need to remember how we play, to not let the hoopla around the game distract you. Be hard to play against and take the play to them. Be strong on the walls and in the corners. But you’ve been doing this and you can do this. Now, go out there, have fun and let’s take this game. They think they’re at an advantage because Tishy’s starting - we’re about to show them they aren’t. He’s got our back and we have his back.” Sully’s face is fierce and passionate, but there’s no disbelief or doubt in it and Justin feels his spine straightening, his shoulders going back in response. There’s no way he’s going to give anything less than his best today, no matter how poor that best is. 

“Fehrsie, who’s starting?” Sully looks towards Fehrsie, sat with paper in his hand. 

Fehrsie grins broadly, holds silent for a moment, making them wait. 

“Up front - Sid! Horny! Kuni!” Each name is met with a cheer by the room. 

“In defence - Tanger! Dales!”

“And in goal - Tiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiiisshhhhhyyyyyy!” he draws out the name as the cheers mount in the room and then they’re jumping to their feet and going down the corridor towards the rink. Kuni is slapping them on the pads as they go by, Dumo is fist-bumping. 

They hold at the entrance for a moment and then, faintly, Justin can hear the PA announcing them and the front of the queue is moving as Tishy leads them onto the ice. He takes a moment to smack Olli on the shoulder and Colesy in the stomach and then he’s trying to swallow with his suddenly dry mouth and charging out onto the ice. 

Running into the arena is like running into a maelstrom of sound. The entire crowd is on its feet, cheering and shouting and it’s just yellow everywhere, a sea of Terrible Towels waving. Justin had thought it was loud in warm-ups, but that was like a whisper compared to this. He skates around, trying to adjust, running through how he needs to play, focussing on his own game. All too quickly, he’s returning to the bench, squeezing on next to Rev, for the anthem which seems to pass in a flash. The crowd are cheering even louder as it finishes and he wouldn’t have believed that was possible. 

The puck drops and Sid wins the face-off, passing it cleanly backwards, but they ice it immediately when Tanger’s pass misses his target. The first minute or so is nervy, the puck not settling and then Olli’s skating back to the bench as the team go forward, Justin pushing off the bench as Sid takes a shot on goal. He’s straight into it, battling for position as the Rangers advance, but the puck ends up in the netting and he’s returning to the bench, allowing Dales and Dumo onto the ice for the defensive face-off. 

He’d thought he’d feel more nervous on the ice, but to his surprise, he hadn’t, too focussed on the game to worry about the occasion and he thinks he prefers it that way. He can feel the occasion on the bench, in the noise from the crowd and the yellow just everywhere, but on ice, he wants to stay focussed. 

It’s an even game though, neither side dominating, with maybe the Rangers pushing a little bit harder for now. However Tishy is calm and confident in the crease, easily dealing with the shots so far and the bench is reflecting that - and then suddenly he’s scrambling to make a save on Hayes and the bench is on its feet, but he gets there and he also gets the secondary shot from Eric Staal and the Pens are able to clear the puck away, Hags harrying the play on the forecheck. Justin slides onto the ice behind them, just in time as the Rangers are pushing forward again, but Tishy is able to catch the puck. Justin heads to the bench, Dumo and Dales heading onto the ice again. 

As he and Colesy get to the bench, Jacques leans over to them, pointing out how they could have adjusted to the play earlier, making it easier for them to get the puck out. 

They don’t even get a chance to put it into practice - he and Colesy are sent out for a face-off but Colesy gets hooked by his opposing forward, drawing a penalty, and they return to the bench to let the first PP unit onto the ice. 

It takes around a minute for the Pens PP to get set up in the offensive zone, but they finally manage to get into the zone and gradually ramp the pressure up, before the Rangers desperately clear, ending the Pens first unit and sending Justin out with the second unit onto the ice. 

They don’t have much time left on the penalty, but Shears’ scurry along the wall allows him to drive the puck deep into the net, with Bonino just missing on the shot. Justin, following in hard, doesn’t get a chance at any rebound and he has to peel back quickly to stop the Rangers going in the opposite direction. It ends up going out of play, and once again, Justin returns to the bench, this time to let Rev and Olli out there. 

Justin settles back down; the bench is quiet, the guys serious and focussed, but at the moment the Rangers are pushing harder, shooting pucks from everywhere on the ice, and it’s showing on the shot clock and with how long the Penguins are spending on defence. Tishy’s standing firm though, not giving up much and showing little signs of being discomforted by the rubber he’s facing. 

At least on Justin’s next shift, they’re actually in the Rangers’ zone, with Phil trying to generate something, before the puck goes out of play. This time, Justin and Colesy stay out, but it’s a hard fought face-off, Moore and Glass trying to bully Shears and Sunny on the face-off. Justin can see the mongooses stiffening and pushing back as much as they can, refusing to be intimidated, but they’re then defending in their own end, Colesy getting the puck to Justin, taking a hit to do so, before Justin makes a crisp outlet pass to Hags, skating up the left wing. They get the puck in behind the Rangers net before losing possession, and then the ref is whistling the play dead - the hit on Colesy has drawn a penalty, the second time Stalberg has been penalised for something on Colesy. The Rangers aren’t happy; Colesly is smugly skating to the bench, like butter wouldn’t melt in his mouth. 

It lets the Pens PP out onto the ice again. It goes better, with the first unit getting more zone time, but not many more shots. Justin gets on earlier this time, but the Rangers are able to keep clearing it and the power play peters out with nothing to show from it.

But it’s obviously time for a make-up call, as Fehrsie is called for snowing Lundqvist on the very next shift. 

“I thought play-offs were called more leniently than regular season,” Justin mutters to Olli. 

Olli shrugs. “Guess that referee hasn’t got the memo.” He pulls a face. 

The penalty killers are doing well, Hags pursuing a clearance into the offensive end and teaming up with Bones and Tanger to get a good shot off which Hags just misses on the re-direct. But the Pens recover the puck and play it around the corners before pushing it back into the Rangers end. It’s cleared from there, but the Pens have killed the penalty without much difficulty and the crowd is cheering their effort as Fehrsie returns to the ice. 

It seems to give the Pens a lift and they begin to harry the Rangers, Kuni getting a nice chance from Sid which Lundqvist has to save. 

But Justin finds himself backing up again into his own end as soon as he’s on ice, trying to keep body position on Staal as he tries to drive to Tishy’s net. Somehow Justin fends him off, but they don’t get the puck out, and Justin soon finds himself trying to prevent a cross-crease pass that would leave Tishy exposed when Staal drives again to the net, taking everyone out in a flurry of ice and net and players. Somehow, Justin keeps his feet, staggering across the crease to do so, but looking for the next puck coming in, but the referee has thankfully blown it dead, letting Justin get back to the bench. His heart is racing, but his efforts have earned him a pat on the shoulder from Jacques.

“Too many Staals in this game, man,” he mutters after having taken a mouthful of water. 

“Doesn’t really matter how many there are,” Rev mutters back. “They’re all tall and blonde and tough and it doesn’t make a lot of difference which one you’re facing. They’re all hard to play.” 

There’s a head nod along the bench at that, but they turn their attention back to the ice where it feels like the Pens are starting to get onto their game more, getting some good time in the Rangers end. Shears manages to force a turnover, and in the resulting attacks, Lundqvist drops to the ice like he’s been felled clutching his face. The team are on their feet trying to see what happened, what’s going on. 

“Oh fuck, I hope it wasn’t one of us,” Dales says. The bench is quiet - Lundqvist is clearly in a lot of pain, writhing on the ice in a way which is uncomfortable to watch, and the trainer’s gone onto the ice to assist. 

The players on the ice have returned to stand in front of the Pens’ bench. 

“I think it was a stick,” Sunny says hesitantly. “Staal’s stick was up behind him as he tried to tie up my stick, close to where Lundqvist was - it might have been that.”

They crane their heads up at the jumbotron and sure enough, Sunny is right. Half the bench wince as they see Lundqvist drop to the ice following the stick to the face - it looks bad, but Lundqvist is on his feet and skating to the bench unassisted. Justin’s relieved that from here, his eye looks relatively normal. 

The crowd is getting restive, but Sully is using the time to draw up some face-off plays with Sid’s line, treating it like a time out, keeping his players focussed on the task at hand. Shears is going back out onto the ice with Sid’s line, regardless of who is in goal for the Rangers. 

But Lundqvist returns to the goal, and the players convene for the offensive face-off. The Rangers manage to clear it, but Tanger gets it and passes it backup to Horny. He dumps it in, Shears accelerating in pursuit, beating the Ranger defenceman to it, and shooting towards the net. It goes off Lundqvist’s blocker, but the rebound goes to Horny who buries it, five-hole into the back of the net. 

Justin is on his feet, shouting with elation. The Penguins are on the board and in the lead in their first play-off game! 

The roar from the crowd is drowning out anything on the bench but Horny’s face, as he skates by is fierce and proud; Shears is elated at getting his first playoff point, setting up the goal which gives the Pens the lead. 

Justin glances upwards - there’s only 18 seconds of the first period to play, the timing couldn’t be better. He settles back down on the bench as Sully sends Cully’s line out to hold the fort until the period end; they do and the team piles back down the corridor to the locker room. 

The room is buzzing, the players still talking about the goal as they strip down, grab coffees and snacks. Tishy is getting a lot of love for holding firm against the Rangers’ assault. Horny gets a cheer when he returns from his interview with Dan. 

“Horny, that was a beaut!” says Sully, entering the room and making his way to the whiteboard. “Good opportunity and a nice play by you too Shears. Hags, Bones, Tanger, good work on the penalty kill.” He takes a breath. 

“You got those because you outworked the Rangers, and we didn’t do that enough in the first period. You were doing it at the end there, came back into it nicely but let’s do some tweaks to make things easier for you. So here’s how we’re going to do it some more.”

They’re used to Sully redirecting their efforts in the intermissions, tightening up their strategies and a lot of what he says feeds into the video review that they did in the run up to the game. Justin listens, sipping his coffee and trying to visualise how he’s going to put into practice what Sully is telling them to do. A glance around the room shows the rest of the team equally as engaged - no-one is not listening, they’re all focussed and concentrating. And why should they not be - this is the playoffs, it’s the moment that players play all year for! 

It seems all too quickly that the intermission is over and they’re waiting to go back out onto the ice. He feels a little better, having got the first period under his belt and nothing unexpected having happened, nothing he couldn’t cope with. The crowd is louder and more raucous, the play is more intense, but he can cope with that and knows to expect it now. 

As they skate out, he knows the team is glancing over to see what’s happened with the Rangers goalie, and sure enough Raanta has his helmet on and looks to be in net now. He’s really not that surprised - it’s a huge occasion, but the combination of injury and goal might have shaken Lundqvist too much. 

Play has hardly re-started when Kreider drives Tanger hard into the boards, drawing a penalty immediately. The bench is more concerned with how pained Tanger is getting up. 

“Fucking asshole,” mutters Dales. Tanger comes slowly back to the bench, swearing quietly to himself, but he’s able to skate it off before the power play starts. 

Once again though the first unit has big difficulties getting into the Rangers end, the Rangers breaking up the transition and continually sending it down on Tishy. Even when Justin gets on with the second unit, Tanner Glass takes a puck to the face, and the delay is sufficient to allow Dales and Tanger back out with the second unit. 

But any momentum they had at the end of the first perio has been killed, and it’s a scrappy, messy game which is developing, Rangers successfully tieing up the Pens and stopping them getting to their game. They’re not even getting the puck on goal; the Rangers are running up the shot clock from all over while the Pens are trying for better quality shots, but getting nothing. 

Finally at close to the ten minute mark of the second period, Fehrsie drives to the net and gets a shot off, and then gets a second chance at his rebound. Justin is watching from the blue line, looking for any opportunity to get into the play, but before he can, Tommy’s drawn a holding penalty, battling along the boards, and the puck squirts out and Justin safely gathers it up as the Pens get an extra attacker on, passing it to Dumo, who passes it to Sid as they start the rush up ice. 

Justin’s breaking up the left wing when a saucer pass comes across the ice from Sid, landing perfectly in front of him so he can hit it in stride and drive into the net, cutting through the Rangers defence like they weren’t even there. Raanta manages to close his legs before Justin can slide the puck through and just like that his scoring chance is over. But he skates back to the bench with his head high and feeling a lot more settled. 

The power play is a lot better too, spending most of the time in the zone, attacking the Rangers goal persistently. But they can’t get a puck past Raanta and towards the end of the penalty, the Rangers launch a counter-attack which Dales takes a tripping penalty trying to break up. 

It’s a hard penalty kill, but they do it. Tishy stonewalls Zuccarello and that’s the best chance for the Rangers; when it’s over, Justin feels himself letting out a breath. A one goal lead feels so fragile. 

It seems even more fragile shortly after when, trying to defend a break-out by the Rangers, he loses an edge, giving Fast a clear run up the boards into the Pens end. Heart spiking in fear that he’s made the mistake which allows the game-tying goal, he scrambles to his feet to see Colesy backing up, defending the two-on-one which Justin’s mistake has allowed. 

Justin launches himself up the ice in pursuit, but between Colesy and Tishy, they’ve got it and the Rangers attack is thwarted, Justin going in belatedly to drive the loose puck safely under Tishy, causing the ref to blow the play dead. 

“Thanks Tishy, you saved my ass there,” he says. 

Tishy grins at him, shrugs. “It’s my job man, just doing it. Wouldn’t like to get bored you know!”

“No chance of that,” Colesy says, giving Tishy a pad tap. “You’re doing a great job for us tonight.”

They skate back to the bench together, courtesy of a tv time out. 

There’s only a couple of minutes left in the period when Sid takes to the ice again and suddenly it’s like they’ve found another gear. Shears forces Raanta into a big save right on his door step, courtesy of a pass from behind the net and the Rangers ice it trying to get it clear. But they win the face-off and it ends up behind Tishy’s net, before coming out to the Rangers’ point. That shot gets blocked and suddenly Sid is off up ice, with Shears in pursuit as they realise the Pens have regained possession and Justin finds himself on his feet as Horny makes a perfect outlet pass to Sid, as the Rangers D throw themselves to the ice trying to stop it getting through. 

That leaves Sid in alone on Raanta and he buries it to double the Pens lead, with barely a minute of the second period left. The crowd is ecstatic; the bench is all grins as they watch Sid celebrate on the ice before peeling out of the hug to come in for fist bumps. 

The Pens hold on through the last minute and then Justin’s standing and following the rest of the team to the locker room for intermission. The noise level is loud - the team is invigorated after the late goal, conversation bubbling out across the room as they laugh and chirp and chat with each other. 

Olli settles into his stall with a groan. Justin looks to him anxiously. 

“You ok?” 

“Motherfucker caught me in the ribs with his butt end just before Sid scored. It’s nothing, just bruises, but why do they always find the bits the pads miss?” Olli doesn’t look like he’s badly hurt, just a bit pissed. 

“C’mon if it was Girardi, he probably practices it as his most important skill as a defenceman. It’s not like he can skate or anything useful like that.” Tanger’s voice is wry as he hands Olli his coffee. “But get the trainers to give it the once over anyway.”

“Yes Tanger,” Olli sounds only vaguely mutinous, but also like he’s agreeing just to get Tanger off his back. Tanger looks at him a moment longer, but lets it slide. 

“What the hell were he and Staal doing on Sid’s goal anyway?” Dumo asks. “I mean, I’m not objecting, but I feel like they’re giving a bad name to defencemen everywhere doing shit like that.”

Tanger shakes his head. “Hey, it worked well for us. So long as they keep doing shit like that, I’ll be happy.”

They go over adjustments to their game, but all too soon they’re heading back out on ice. Justin feels anxious to get out there, wanting to get this one put to bed before the Rangers can get back into it. 

The Rangers come out fighting hard to get back into it, making Tishy make some good saves to keep them out. Then disaster strikes - Hags and Colesy take penalties at the same time, Hags a four minute high-stick penalty and Colesy for flattening Eric Staal in the crease. It would usually be considered a good hit - but for the fact that the puck had been nowhere near them at the time. 

“Fuck,” says Tommy going over the boards. A full two minutes of five on three is no fun, particularly not when two of your killers are currently sat in the box. 

It’s desperate for a minute, the killers not able to get possession, simply trying to disrupt the Rangers enough to give Tishy a chance. Eventually though, the Rangers find a seam with a cross-crease pass and Stepan buries it before Tishy can get over. 

There’s some muffled cursing from the bench around him. Justin’s heart sinks - back to a one goal game. 

“Keep with it,” the voice comes from behind them, clear and confident. “Don’t let this get into your heads, we can still do this.” Sully will never admit any doubt, but right now, Justin is glad of it, letting Sully’s confidence and faith fill in where Justin’s own is ebbing. 

Colesy skates back to the bench, face impassive, but body held rigidly in his effort not to show any emotion. It’s enough to tell everyone he knows exactly what he’s done. 

“Colesy, get out there and kill the next one,” Jacques said. And that’s it - no recriminations. He’s not even benched, but given the opportunity to put it right and as he skates off, Justin can see the determination in him, the desire to atone. 

They do a good job through the next minute, Cully almost breaking loose of Staal for a short-handed attempt, only to be whistled for offsides. There’s some mad scrambling in the Pens end as the Rangers push hard, but somehow they keep the puck out of the net. 

Then the defending forwards start to edge up ice as the puck goes back to Tanger - and Bone’s read the play correctly, is suddenly streaking up ice to provide a perfect target for the outlet pass with Tommy in pursuit. Tanger flips it up to Bones who catches it safely and then he and Tommy are in on a 2 on 1. Bones gets the pass through to Tommy and Tommy roofs it into the empty corner of the net. Just like that they’ve destroyed any momentum the Rangers might have gained from the power play and listening to the ecstatic crowd, Justin can feel the confidence building again. 

Tommy is grinning ear to ear as he takes the fist bumps and returns to the bench. 

“Great job Tommy, Bones, Tanger! Now, don’t lose focus here, we still need to kill this thing,” Sully’s there again, reminding them what they need to do. But the Pens head out to the ice with heads high. 

They do kill it, and it’s the Pens’ turn to push hard now, buoyed by the reversal of fortune during the extended penalty kill. It culminates, not in a goal, but in Eric Staal getting called for goaltender interference after he tries to get in behind Tishy. 

Justin sits up straighter, aware that he might be called on during the power play. He’s all too aware he hasn’t played a shift this period, stapled to the bench like a useless thing. 

The first unit get set up quickly and are soon peppering shots onto the Rangers goal. Then Sid shoots on goal and Raanta stops it, but the puck dribbles slowly to sit in the crease where Horny can reach it to whack it in. It’s only taken 30 seconds of the power play and they’re 4-1 up, around twelve minutes of the game left. There’s a feeling of satisfaction as the power play unit return to the bench - but just as they are settling, the Rangers challenge the goal for goaltender interference. 

The bench watch the repeat for a few seconds. 

“No way,” says Hags. “It was only Phil’s ass and that didn’t interfere with the play, although he nearly got an ass goal.”

“Fuck you Hags, my ass is a thing of beauty!”

Horny’s silent, but his brow is furrowed with concern. They watch the repeats of the action on the jumbotron in mostly silence. 

“No,” says Cully. “Raanta was just too slow to react, not impeded, not touched at any point. And while Phil’s ass being close is disturbing, that’s not goaltender interference. But who knows what the refs will see it as on review?”

“Fuck you, Cully, my ass is a thing of beauty and Raanta is fortunate to have got that close to it!” 

There are chuckles up and down the bench at Phil’s protestations, but the tension doesn’t ease that much. 

That’s the problem, Justin thinks. They’ve seen too many calls be overturned on the whim of the referee to be able to predict what could happen. So all they can do is sit and wait and try not to let either outcome affect how they play the game. 

Eventually the referee skates to centre ice and the stadium quietens. 

“Upon further review… there was NO goaltender interference - the goal stands!” 

With that the crowd erupts once more and Horny relaxes. The Pens are grinning around the bench, Cully’s line going out for the face-off, to settle things down and make sure the Rangers don’t get a quick one back. 

They’re successful and the game continues. Justin’s grimly aware that shift after shift is going onto the ice and he’s not getting called, but he tries to remember he can’t affect that, just stay focussed in case they do need him and he gets called on. 

The game has opened up again, as the Ranger push to try and make up the deficit and they manage to score on the rush, Stepan picking up a rebound. Tishy is furious with himself; the bench immediately look to the clock. Two goals ahead with ten minutes to play isn’t as big of a cushion as they’d have liked and they know it will have given the Rangers hope and they’ll keep pushing. 

Sid’s face is set as he goes out for the face-off. They lose the face-off, but force a turnover before the Rangers even get a shot on goal, and then Horny carries it up ice, taking a shot and forcing Raanta to make the save to get them an offensive zone face-off. But it coincides with a tv timeout which means Sully can keep Sid’s line on the ice. 

It feels controlled, like the Penguins have adapted quickly to conceding that goal and are moving quickly past it to ensure they don’t allow another. The Penguins continue to roll lines smoothly, each line moving to smother the Rangers as much as they can, while still seeking their own chances. But Justin continues to sit on the bench uncalled. Each second ticking down is another second where the Rangers haven’t scored and they can almost feel the frustration rolling off the Rangers bench as they try to push back. 

The Rangers bring Raanta off early with three minutes to play, desperate to make up the deficit, but on the very next play, Sid wins a puck battle in centre ice and gets the puck to Horny going up the wing. His shot on the empty net doesn’t miss and as he skates into the boards his face is glowing. The first few hats trickle down onto the ice and then more and more as the crowd realise that Horny’s just completed a playoff hat trick, the roar building from the crowd in appreciation. 

The team picks its way back across the ice through the hats for the fist bumps as the Ice Crew go out to gather up the hats. Dales flips the puck to Dana for safe-keeping, in case Horny wants it as a momento and Justin finds himself relaxing on the bench, for the first time feeling safe enough to think they’ve won this. Less than three minutes to play and three goals ahead - the victory feels finally within reach.

The Pens are able to grind out the last few minutes, the crowd chanting for Tishy and cheering the team as the seconds wind down until the final buzzer goes and Justin is finally going over the boards to go hug Tishy in celebration of the team winning the first playoff game - Justin’s first ever playoff game. He takes a moment, as he’s skating back over, to look around at the cheering, ecstatic fans, to try and let this sink in, so he can remember it. 

He’s not sure he’ll get another.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This just took a long time to write - life and Christmas definitely got in the way. So apologies for that. We've finally actually started the playoffs... I feel like I've hit a milestone after an awful lot of writing!


	48. Shadows from the past

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the aftermath of their first play-off win.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay, more words, and new plot and sorry for the long wait!

Inside the locker room is high and happy, reminiscent of when they’d confirmed their place for the playoffs. 

Tishy is being feted and Justin is almost embarrassed to think about how worried he’d been about Tishy starting, when he had had their asses under the Rangers’ initial onslaught early in the game while the skaters had still been finding their feet. So he makes sure to go over and fist bump him. 

“You were unbelievable tonight, man!” he says. He’s not the only one - Tishy gets the warrior helmet, despite Horny’s hat-trick, to a roar of approval from the room, the relief of winning their first game fuelling them to be louder than normal, letting them release the stress and tension they’d carried into it with the sweet, intoxicating feel of victory. 

Even Justin lets himself relax, deliberately refuses to think on his worries, too determined to enjoy his first play-off victory. There’s a time and a place for worrying and this isn’t it - all that time spend in Edmonton ignoring his feelings has a positive use now. 

Beside him, Olli is sprawled out in his stall, flushed, sweaty and happy and Justin can barely look at him, because he looks satiated, like he’s been freshly fucked and Justin just can’t think of that in the locker room. But Olli cocks an eyebrow at him and then grins and sprawls some more, legs falling open like he knows what Justin is thinking and there’s nothing Justin can do about it, except turn back into the room, refusing to look any more. 

Suddenly from the direction of the mongooses there’s a shout of ‘Harry!’ and Justin turns towards them to see them drawing in a strange guy, dressed casually, into an excited bubble. 

“Harry?” he hears Olli say behind him and he turns back to find Olli, languid pose abandoned and he’s craning across the room from his stall to see what has caused the excitement amongst the mongooses. But it seems whatever has caused the excitement is coming towards them as the group is moving in a hubbub across the room towards the D stalls, swirling and regrouping around the logo.

“Hey Olli, look who’s here!” exclaims Tommy. “Harry’s come to see us play!”

But Olli has already risen to his feet, arms stretching out towards the stranger hesitantly, before dropping to his side. 

“Hey Olli, nice to see you again,” the guy - Harry? - says. “You were looking good out there tonight, kid.”

“Harry,” exclaims Olli, and something about the look in his eyes causes a shiver of concern along Justin’s back. “I… I didn’t expect to see you again. Or at least not in here. Obviously I’d see you in the ice, but like this… in here... ? What are you doing here?”

Olli is babbling and Olli, confident, thoughtful, reserved Olli never babbles. Justin glances at Harry, but can’t see anything to cause it. He’s clearly a hockey player, and from the reaction, someone who has been a Penguin, but Justin just can’t place him. He looks to the rest of the D, but Dumo is also on his feet and coming forward to greet the arrival. But it’s Tanger’s reaction which Justin just happens to catch and which completely absorbs him - there’s such a look of intense fury on Tanger’s face that Justin finds himself swaying backwards in reaction. And then just as suddenly as it was there, it’s gone again and Tanger has his game face on, is rising smoothly to his feet. 

“I came to see you,” Harry says to Olli and then glances around the group. “To see you all. Well you know we’re out, so I just wanted to come hang for a little. Hope you don’t mind, kid!” He smiles at Olli and Olli grins back, eyes shining and Justin can feel something tightening in his chest at that look. 

“Scott,” greets Tanger. “Nice to see you. You’re looking good - I guess the post season relaxation has been agreeing with you.” His face is nearly impassive, showing neither welcome nor any of the anger from seconds earlier, but Justin, sensitised to and aware for once of the nuances which are happening here can see a crinkle around his eyes, the start of his smile which is his battle face. 

“Tanger,” acknowledges Harry and where he was relaxed before, greeting Olli, there’s an edge and a tightness shading into his voice. “Good to see you’re still around and haven’t had to retire yet. I was really worried for you after last season, but watching tonight on the ice, you were still the same old aggravating asshole.” He tries a smile, but it’s mostly teeth. Justin’s eyes are wide. There’s clearly no love lost between this pair. 

“That’s right and you’d better remember it. I won’t let up on you just because we’ve played together previously,” Tanger flicks his hair off his face, eyes dark and posture filling as much space as possible. 

“You mean for next season, don’t you?” asks Olli worriedly. His eyes are flicking between the two and where earlier he was happy and excited, now he’s looking drawn. 

“Then too,” says Tanger easily and now he’s grinning at Harry. Olli obviously recognises this is going downhill fast, and looks around for a distraction. Unfortunately, he finds Justin. 

“Oh hey, Harry, you haven’t met Schultzy yet have you? Schultzy - Justin Schultz - this is Scott Harrington. He went to the Leafs when we got Phil.”

“I’m with the Jackets now though, and it’s good to be there,” Harry says. “You’re the reject from the Oilers aren’t you?” It’s said casually like it’s a joke, with a smile, but Justin’s feels it like a blow, and he’s very sure that was the intent. He can start to understand Tanger’s reaction now. Fortunately, Tanger, quick in everything he does, is just as quick in verbal battles. 

“No, he’s the guy our management wanted on our team to help us with the playoffs this year so Jim went out and got him for us,” Tanger chips in. “He’s doing a great job for us, fitting right in and playing great.”

“Yeah, not so great tonight though, or I guess the coach wouldn’t have benched him in the third. Still, I’m sure he’s doing just fine.” 

There’s a patronising edge to it which sets Justin’s teeth on edge and fuck him because at least Justin is playing in the playoffs. He takes a breath, trying not to be provoked.

“Nice to meet you, man. Where are you staying while you’re here?” Justin tries to keep his tone even, not let any annoyance through.

It’s about all Justin feels he can say without stepping into the verbal minefield that Tanger and Harry seem intent on setting up. Tanger gives him a look but returns to his stall, withdrawing from the immediate confrontation, apparently content for now to let it play out. 

“Yeah, see that’s a problem,” Harry says, his face taking on a bashful look. “I’d hoped to pick up a hotel room, but with the play-off game, seems like that’s harder than I thought it would be. I’m kind of left hanging a bit. Olli, I know it’s presumptuous of me, but I kind of hoped I could crash at yours? It would just be like old times!” 

The look he gives Olli is filled with meaning and Olli stares back, colour rising in his face. 

“Yeah, sure, that’s no problem,” Olli stammers. “I mean, if you’re sure…”

“Fantastic!” Harry replies. “And we’re going out to celebrate your victory right? Get the old gang back together - Tommy, Shears, Murrs , Dumo, you guys in? Are Scotty and Rusty around?”

“Scotty’s done his ankle but I’m sure he can come. Rusty’s around somewhere, he’s in a boot but mobile and he was here tonight,” replies Shears. “I’ll message him and let him know.”

They quickly decide on a bar downtown - not the usual Wednesday night one, which Harry had rejected with a pulled face. 

Olli turns to Justin. “Are you…”

Before he can even finish though, Harry’s interjecting. “Oh hey Olli, I really wanted it just to be the old gang, you know the guys who have history together? I’ve barely heard from you all since I got traded and it would be great to catch up. No way is Schultzer going to want to sit through an evening of that. Sorry to be a killjoy man, but I’m sure you’ll understand since you’ve been through the trading thing as well.” He looks at Justin, but it’s clear he isn’t paying him any attention. 

Justin shouldn’t feel bad the way he’s been excluded from the group; on the surface it seems reasonable. But he’s pathetic enough that he does, that the fact his team-mates are nodding along with Harry in agreement that he’s not wanted actually hurts. He looks to Olli for support, but Olli’s not saying anything in disagreement. He looks troubled, but he doesn’t say anything and when Harry flashes Olli a grin and a nod, he smiles and his troubled look eases.

“Hey guys, if you are going out, remember we’ve only won one playoff game. We’ve got another three to win,” Sid’s voice comes across the locker room. “Take it easy tonight. There’s a long way to go.”

“Same old Sid, still the mother-henning fun-killer,” Harry mutters but Shears gives him an annoyed look. 

“He’s right, we still have a job to do and we can’t forget it,” Shears says. Harry holds his hands up in contrition, but as soon as Shears has turned away, he’s looking towards Olli, eye-rolling. Olli says nothing, looking away uncomfortably. 

Justin’s just about ready to go and starts to turn towards Olli to check if he’s good; and then the practicalities of the situation kick in. He’d got a ride in with Olli, but it seems unlikely that Olli will be able to give him a ride home with the plans being made, which leaves Justin kind of stranded at Consol. He waits a little and sure enough, the guys going out are starting to leave the locker room en masse, chattering and laughing as they go. It’s a lot quieter once they’ve gone. 

Justin sighs, starts to think about who lives closest that he could get a ride from without taking them too far out of their way. He thinks Horny might not live too far away from Justin’s apartment, so goes over to where he’s chatting with Hags. 

“Hey Horny, sorry to interrupt, but I’ve been left stranded. My ride has gone out without me. Can I beg a ride home? I don’t think it’s too far out your way.”

Tanger, on his way out of the room, stops dead at overhearing that. 

“Olli went out with Harry and left you without a ride home?” he asks. 

“It’s fine, I’m sure he knew someone else would help out and there’s always the team cars,” Justin replies. While he might be hurt by it himself, he’s not going to admit to that. 

“Unbelievable!” exclaims Tanger. “Horny, you are taking him?”

Horny hurries to agree. Justin doesn’t think anyone would disagree with Tanger looking like he’s an hairsbreadth from violence. 

“Ok, that’s good. Thank you, Horny.” Tanger pauses a moment more in consideration. “Osti de tabernak de calice!” he spits, and with that, he storms out the locker room. 

Hags, Horny and Justin stare after him for a moment. 

“Fuck,” says Horny softly. “He’s really pissed.” 

“I’m kind of glad you could take me and Tanger doesn’t feel obliged to do it,” Justin says. “I’m not sure we’d survive if he drives how he looks right now!”

“What’s eating him?” asks Hags as they head towards the door themselves. 

“He got into a pissing match with that guy who turned up - Harry?” Justin replies. “I guess him finding out Olli had left to go drinking with Harry and the rest of the mongooses didn’t help.”

Horny shrugs, but there’s an air of acceptance about it. 

“Wait,” Hags says. “Olli ditched you to go drinking with Harry?” His eyes are sharp and curious. 

Justin nods. It’s not really something he wants to talk about. “And the rest of the former baby Pens. Olli tried to ask if I wanted to come but Harry was pretty adamant he wanted it to be a session only with the guys he used to play with. Makes sense I suppose; he’s come back to see them, why would he want randoms along?” 

Hags makes a scolding sound and shakes his head. “It’s not a good look during the playoffs for anyone to be excluding anyone, but if you’re ok with it then I guess it’s no harm done.”

“It’s probably better I didn’t go,” Justin says ruefully. “After my third period, I guess I’ve got a lot of hard work ahead of me and better to do that on a completely clear head.”

“For sure, but we all have a lot of hard work ahead of us, it’s not just you,” says Horny matter of factly. They’ve reached the car park now and Hags heads off to his own vehicle, Horny steering Justin in the direction of his own SUV. 

Horny checks where Justin’s apartment is before he sets off; fortunately Justin’s able to describe it relatively well because his knowledge of Pittsburgh geography is still pretty bad. 

Justin tries to think of something relatively safe to talk about - it should be easy after their game tonight, but Horny beats him to it. 

“I’m glad I was able to speak to you alone tonight after Harry re-appeared,” Horny begins, glancing over to Schultzy as they sit at traffic lights. “I know you’re close with Olli, so you should probably know that he was pretty upset when Harry was traded. I’m worried how he’ll be with Harry coming back like that. We’ll all look out for him, but you didn’t know how he was when Harry left and it’s better if you do. He seemed to struggle with the news at first, and it’s a bad time of year for crap like this to be happening.”

“Is that why Tanger was so down on Harry? It seemed like there was no love lost between them when Harry first appeared.” Justin still can’t figure out Tanger’s reaction. 

Well, that’s not quite true. There is one possible reason, but he’s desperately hoping that Olli and Harry have not been a thing in the past; that that wasn’t the relationship both Olli and Tanger have mentioned as ending badly in the past. He doesn’t know if they were even talking about the same one. It might not be so. Justin could just be jumping at shadows over this. 

Horny cuts into this thoughts, having safely executed the Pittsburgh left thing that still scares Justin. 

“I don’t know. There was some stuff I think went on, but I don’t really know about it. But if Tanger’s not happy then that’s all the more reason to keep an eye on Olli.”

“For sure,” agrees Justin. “I’ll do what I can. You’re right, we all will. We’ve got the first game, we need to keep doing this! And look at you hat-trick man tonight!”

Horny grins, fierce and proud. “I did what I could, we all did,” he says modestly, but Justin doesn’t begrudge him the pride at all. He should be more proud, shouting what he’s done from the rooftops. 

“Hey man, you and Tishy man, just excellent tonight.”

Horny’s grin grows wider, but then fades. “It was fun, but it’s one game. We can’t get too fixated on one game, or we get caught out in the next one. We need to keep looking forward, not back. So yeah, tonight I can enjoy and then tomorrow, it’s gone, and we’re getting ready for the next one.”

They’re pulling up to Justin’s apartment block now. 

“Well enjoy it man, how often do you get to score a hat-trick in the play-offs!”

Justin thanks Horny as he slides out the car, heading for his dark apartment.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks to Kenarik and Boeserflow for kicking me (in the nicest and friendliest way possible) to get on and write something. Which led me to revising some plot, getting out the block I'd found myself in and letting me find some direction for the next few weeks. 
> 
> Scott Harrington is a convenient plot device, and although he does play for CBJ, there is nothing I've read to suggest he's as much as an arsehole as I've made him in here. 
> 
> I am sorry for the delay in this, but hopefully, we're back on track again. IT IS NOT ABANDONED! After 140kish words, I'm not nearly ready to give up on this yet. Besides, we haven't even reached two of the scenes I imagined very early on... 
> 
> When last I posted, the Penguins were ropey and we were nail-biting as to whether they'd be good enough to even make the playoffs. 
> 
> Isn't being a Penguins fan fun?! How things can change quickly. Now.. let's just make it through the trade deadline...


	49. Is it just me or are you an asshole?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's the day after the first play-off game. Justin has to face his coach and his kind of boyfriend

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The problem with doing so many chapters is coming up with titles and chapter summaries for each one. This is not my best! 
> 
> Warning for more asshole behaviour and Justin angsting. But white knight Kunitz and Sully being Sully.

His apartment seems cold and empty; he knows nothing’s changed there but it feels that way. Once again he’s left going through his post game routine alone, trying not to think of everything that’s troubling him, and it feels like Edmonton all over again. He’s fucked up on the ice and he doesn’t know how to change it. Olli… well it looks like Olli’s bored of him already. He can’t compete with someone Olli’s known for a longer time, might have past history with, that Olli likes. 

He’s trying to understand that, he really is. He and Olli had an agreement it was just for now, short term, so he can understand Olli dropping him when someone better comes along, someone who could be more. 

But there’s a bit of him - call it hope, call it pride - wants to hear from Olli that it’s over. Doesn’t want to give up and assume until he’s been told it and not just assumed it. It’s easier to assume it, would hurt less than hearing it from Olli. But he knows that hope or pride won’t die until he has heard it from Olli, or until it’s been proved beyond doubt. There could be a thousand explanations - Harry might not even be gay, they could just be really good hockey buddies together. 

And yeah, Harry was an asshole, but he’d been traded by the Penguins. Justin could see why he might be bitter about that; although if he felt like that, why turn up here again? He just doesn’t understand what’s going on. 

Just too much uncertainty. Between that and being benched in the third, suddenly it feels like the stable footing Justin had been finding had been swept away from him again and he doesn’t like that. 

He heads to bed, but he can’t sleep. Any sound makes him start and then, angrily, he realises he’s been listening for Olli and Harry coming back, even though he’s unlikely to be able to hear anything from his bedroom. So he fiddles with his phone, finds some soothing music to act as white noise and show his stupid subconscious that he won’t able to hear anything anyway. He checks his alarm for the third time because there’s no way he’s being late for optional tomorrow and then thankfully, manages to drift off listening to the music, restless brain finally distracted enough by the music to let him sleep. 

0--0--0

He messages Olli in the morning to see if he wants to share a lift. There’s no response so after waiting a while he heads off in his own car to Cranberry. 

He’s one of the first to get in - ok actually he is the first, but he’s fine with that - it lets him grab breakfast before skate. He’s joined by Kuni soon after however. 

“Morning Schultzy, what did you think of your first play-off?” 

It’s an easy subject and they casually chat about Justin’s experience of it, and Kuni’s much broader experience of play-offs. As more of the team join them, there’s more thoughts and experiences being shared. 

But Justin can’t help but notice that none of the mongooses - or anyone else who went out last night - like Olli or Dumo - have made it in yet. The mongooses don’t often appear for breakfast before an optional, but Dumo usually makes it. 

It’s while he’s changing that Olli arrives, chatting to Harry easily. He sits down with a groan into his stall. 

“Rough night?” asks Justin, trying to sound interested but not overly so. 

“No, it was fun,” says Olli with a grin. “Just, this comes around so quickly again!”

“Better than not doing it though,” replies Justin, all too mindful of Harry standing there, of Justin’s own experience of not being in the play-off. But it turns out he’s not the only one who’s aware of Harry. 

“Sorry Harry, this is players only now,” says Kuni apologetically but firmly behind them. “You’re welcome to use the family lounge or wait out in the rink.” 

“Oh I didn’t think it would be a big deal since he was one of us,” says Olli, frowning a little. 

“We like to keep the room for the team and support personnel only as much as we can.” Kuni explains. “It’s our space. While some of us know Harry, some of the team don’t and it’s not fair on them. It’s like having a stranger present - no offence Harry.” 

Harry’s face is flushed and becoming bitter and tight. “Sure, no problem,” he mutters. “I can’t possibly go against Penguin ritual, can I? I’m sorry if I’ve caused offence. But why did it have to be you, Kuni? Couldn’t whosoever dirty work you are doing have the courage to do it themselves?”

Kuni’s face hardens. “I’m an A on the team and part of the responsibility of wearing a letter is making sure our rules are followed and our rules are designed to protect the team. I’m the A here and now and I’m the one who is politely asking you to follow our rules in our room. But I figured since you know me, you’re prefer if I took the polite option.” 

Harry shrugs. “Yeah, whatever.” He turns towards Olli. “I’ll find you later ok?”

Olli nods his head. “Sorry,” he says, voice small and tight and watches as Harry leaves the room. 

Kuni looks at him. “It’s not about Harry, it is an actual rule,” he says by way of explanation, regretfully. “It’s not one we have to enforce often as the traded guys don’t usually come back. But how do you think Phil could feel, watching one of the guys he was traded for angsting about the room? It is about protecting the team.” 

He hesitates a moment. “It’s also about making guys like Harry, who have moved on, realise they really have moved on as well. It’s part of hockey, being able to change team and lose old allegiances. I’m surprised he came back frankly, I didn’t know he had much to come back to.”

“He has a lot of friends here. A lot of us played with him in juniors or baby Pens,” says Olli defensively. 

“Not denying that, just you have to learn to move on. I bet if we’d gone out first, Schultzy would not have gone and hung out with the Oilers.”

Justin shakes his head. “I’m a Penguin - at least until the end of the year. There’s guys on the Oilers I’d be happy to meet up with, but I wouldn’t want to go back to see all the team. I wouldn’t go back while the play-offs were on either, I’d do it during the off-season.” 

“But that’s different, you were unhappy there,” says Olli. 

Justin shrugs, but it’s not the only reason he wouldn’t want to go back. Just the thought of walking into the locker room is making his skin crawl and he thinks Kuni understands that. He tries once more. 

“It’s about moving on and accepting what’s happened as well though. I was upset when I was traded but it’s been good for me and brought me good things, so why would I want to go backwards, to try and turn time back?” 

He smiles at Olli, knowing he’s one of the good things and then remembers that maybe he isn’t anymore and his smile dims. But Olli smiles back at him, dimples that first caught him flashing and it’s hard to feel bad with Olli looking at him like that. 

“Anyway we’re here for skate,” reminds Kuni. “You’d better finish getting ready.” 

Tanger brushes past them, throwing himself into his stall. 

“You’d better start getting ready,” Kuni continues with a grin. 

“Fuck you,” replies Tanger as he starts to pull on his jock. “I’m here now amn’t I? That’s what I’m trying to do but there appear to be forwards in my way!” 

0--0--0

After skate, it’s video review and then Justin finds himself called into Sully’s office. He’s been both expecting it and dreading it. 

Sure enough, it’s not good news for him personally, although it’s good for the team. Geno and Rusty are both likely to be fit enough to play on Sunday, which means Sully wants to run with 12 forwards; that leaves Justin as the spare D and expected to sit. Sully breaks it as well as he can; gives Justin some things he needs to work on. 

“You’ve got a hard job right now,” he says. “I need you to be ready to step in as and when someone goes down, to stay sharp and ready. To work on those things, but keep being ready in case you are needed and that’s not easy to do. You can’t get complacent and think you won’t play because the playoffs are hard on the team, hard on bodies. It becomes a war of attrition and you’re one of my weapons, ready to take over when we need you. But I know it’s hard to do that, hard for you to find the right mental place to do that from, but we need you to do it. Do you think you can?” 

Justin doesn’t know. He hadn’t seen it in that light before, the requirement to be mentally ready to jump in with little or no notice, but the play-offs are a different beast, with no room for error. He will try. There’s no way he doesn’t want to be ready if the team needs him, to let them down again. He says that to Sully. 

Sully sighs. “I’m not benching you because you’ve let us down. I’m benching you because I need to get Geno and Rusty back into the line up, and so I need to bench someone and carrying a seventh defenceman is a luxury I don’t have right now. You’ve worked hard and come so far from where you were in Edmonton. Sure, you’re not a finished product and you need to keep working on your gap control and your positioning so the other team doesn’t try to victimise you as they were starting to do last night, but we’ve talked about that and I know you’ll listen and keep improving. This isn’t a reflection on you but an indication of how deep the team is. We’re very proud of what you’ve achieved so far and I’d be lying if I said I didn’t think we’d need it in the future.”

“So go out there, keep working on those things and maintain that battle mindset, Schultzy. You’ve got the time and space right now to work on things you need to improve so grab that opportunity and be ready for the team when they need you.”

Justin once again leaves Sully’s office feeling re-motivated and a lot less stressed about the events on the ice last night. He shakes his head in wonder that Sully should somehow manage to make him feel ok about being scratched. He’d still prefer to play, but he understands it and is reassured that surprisingly, Sully still doesn’t seem to think he’s a fuck up. 

Those thoughts keep him going through the short work-out he does - almost more of a stretch after the game and the session this morning and then he’s heading to the lounge to get a coffee and a snack. 

“Schultzy!” he hears behind him and he spins to see Olli standing there. Despite last night, he can’t help but grin in welcome. 

“Hey Olli, how’s it going?”

“We were going to go out and get a bite to eat and wondered if you wanted to come too?” Olli’s eyes are hopeful. “I need to make it up to you for abandoning you last night. Did you get home ok? I should have remembered I’d driven you in, but forgot when Harry appeared.”

Justin hesitates but it’s Olli standing in front of him looking hopeful and there’s no way he can resist for long.

“It’s fine, Horny gave me a ride. Wasn’t a big deal.” He hesitates once more but can’t not say something. “Tanger seemed pissed though. Is there history between those pair? Not sure I want to get between them again.”

Olli’s face falls. “It’s complicated, he says. “Yeah, they didn’t part on the best of terms - Tanger was pissed at Harry and Harry’s kind of bitter about the trade.”

There’s a shout down the corridor and Justin looks up to see Harry coming towards them. 

“Done with your workout?” He asks Olli. “Oh hey Schultzer! Nice to see you again.” 

Justin nods, wondering if he should make a thing of Harry getting his name wrong. But hopefully he’ll hear it from some other people and correct it and Justin won’t have to say anything. 

“Are we going to get something to eat, kid?” Harry asks Olli. “We could go down to the little sandwich bar you used to go to after practice?”

“It shut down,” Olli replies. “But there’s a really good coffee shop not far from there, does good food as well as amazing coffee. Justin and I have been down there a couple of times.”

“Sure, sounds good,” says Harry approvingly. “Let’s go!”

He drapes his arm over Olli’s shoulders and starts to turn them up the corridor and Justin feels his shoulders tighten. It doesn’t seem like he’s been invited after all, is going to be left standing in the corridor in his workout gear while they head out without him.

But Olli turns back, shrugging off Harry’s arm. 

“We’ve got to wait on Schultzy,” Olli says. “He won’t take long, but I abandoned him last night so I have to make it up to him.”

“Sure,” Harry says easily. “You always were so good at taking in waifs and strays and cast offs, he’d be very welcome to tag along too.”

Olli looks really happy at that, obviously seeing it as a compliment. 

Justin on the other hand finds his hands fisting at his sides, has to fight to tamp down on a sudden wave of fury rushing through him at the words. Coming so soon after his coach has been reassuring him of his position on the team it is jarring to hear himself dismissed like that. 

“Maybe Schultzer can meet us there though? We’re ready to go and he still has to change and I’m starving!” 

Justin can’t trust himself to words right now so he forces himself to nod agreement and waves them towards the doors. 

“I won’t be long,” he manages to get out, around the bubbling anger in his throat, heading for the changing room and some space and distance which will let him calm down. 

Olli stands for a moment staring after him before he lets Harry tow him away.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter is well on the way but likely to be two weeks. 
> 
> Yes, Olli's still kind of out of character. You'll start to find out why next chapter - although some of you were pretty spot on in your guesses. 
> 
> One thing for reassurance - there's no dub-con or non-con going to happen. While it could be interesting, it would be not good to let you read 145k and then change the tags. Anything that happens will be fully consensual.... 
> 
> (that also means we don't get Tanger riding to the rescue, which is an image I kind of love but maybe something for a different work!)


	50. Let's do lunch!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 50th chapter!!!
> 
> Justin spends some time with Harry and Olli. I'm sure you can imagine how that's going to go...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had a couple of comments about not knowing who Harry is, so although there was a throwaway summary in the story (thanks Olli!), here's a longer summary. 
> 
> Scott Harrington is a defence man drafted by the Pens in the second round the year before Olli (2011) and came up through the Pens development system. He'd started to get called up to play with the Pens and would have been contending for a place on the team when he was traded alongside Kaspari Kapanen for Phil Kessel in the 2015 trade to the Leafs - so the Pens were willing to give him up but were not prepared to trade Olli or Pouliot (who it's difficult to believe the Leafs would not have asked for before Harrington).   
> From there, he seemed to alternate between the Leafs and the Marlies (the Leafs AHL team, equivalent to the Baby Pens) before being traded to the Jackets, where he's now (2017/18) found a place as their 7th D man. Fast forward a year from this point in the story, and he'll be playing agains the Pens in the Stanley Cup Playoffs for the Jackets. But of course, that hasn't happened yet... 
> 
> I've messed the time line slightly by making him a Jacket now - the trade to the Jackets actually happened in the off-season. Absolutely not an error on my part, not at all, done for really good reasons. Honestly. 
> 
> Other thing to note is he and Olli were on the London Knights together in the season before Olli was drafted, but the first year Olli came to N America.

He’s blessedly alone in the changing room so is able to vent by cursing loudly and frequently. It’s only when he feels calmer that he turns around to find Shears frozen in the doorway, watching Justin like he’s a bomb which could be about to go off. He’s obviously come in mid session and Justin feels his face start to heat up at being caught doing that. 

“Fuck Schultzy, I’ve never seen you so mad. What’s up?” 

Shears is still keeping his distance and seems to be trying to talk in a soothing way, like that might help. 

“Oh, it’s nothing,” Justin says, face flaming. “Sorry, I thought I was alone. If I’d known you were there, I wouldn’t have done that.” 

“Don’t mind me, seems like you needed to!” The alarm is fading out of Shears’ face. “If you want to talk about what’s bugging you, I'm here to listen. Particularly if your cursing stays that creative. That was pretty epic. Even Flower would have been proud of that!” 

Justin lets out a reluctant laugh at that. “No, I’m fine now thanks. Anyway I’m meeting Olli and Harry for something to eat.”

“Aaaah,” says Shears wisely, his eyes crinkling. “Harry is an asshole isn’t he?”

“What?” Justin splutters. “How the fuck….?”

Shears laughs. “I was out with him last night remember? He was ok in Wilkes-Barre but he had his moments even then. Liked to joke about how he’d been drafted and I hadn’t - said it was to keep me grounded, with all the points I was putting up, but he did it a bit too enthusiastically?” Shears does a shoulder shudder like he’s shaking off old memories before continuing. 

“But going to Jackets has really made him a patronising asshole. He kept trying to lord it over me and Rusty last night - like he was the one in the play-offs and we were the call-ups on a team which was already out.” He shakes his head scornfully. “Was kind of glad when we were able to head home. Poor Olli must have the patience of a saint, Harry stuck pretty close to him all evening.” 

Justin starts at the mention of Olli. Much as he’s enjoying finding his opinion shared of Harry - and also finding out that it’s not just Justin getting the Harry treatment - he really needs to head out. 

“Yeah, you’re right, it was Harry. He just got under my skin with something he said,” Justin says. “He does seem like a patronising asshole. But I said I’d meet Olli and him for lunch so I’d better go rescue Olli.”

Shears laughs and makes his way to his stall, starting to strip off his work out gear. 

“Go, go! Rescue our poor defenceman from the nasty Blue Jacket!” He’s grinning as he says it, waving Justin, now quickly changed, towards the door. 

0–0–0

It doesn’t take long for Justin to get to the coffee shop and Olli is at their regular table. He stops at the counter to order his coffee and the chicken and avocado sandwich he prefers, before joining Harry and Olli. 

He gets a smile of welcome from Olli and a nod from Harry as he slides into the seat with a greeting. 

There’s a bit of an awkward silence. 

Justin clears his throat. “So did you guys play together in Baby Pens?”

“Well we played there but we met in juniors,” Harry says. “We played in the London Knights together, the year before Olli was drafted.” 

“Harry was great there. I was new into North America, never really been out of Europe, and suddenly I’m living, thousands of miles away from home, away from all my friends and family. Harry really looked out for me, helped me find my way,” Olli says, smiling towards Harry, face soft. “I’m not sure if I’d have made it without him. That year was hard.”

“You should have seen him, Schultzer; he was so skinny and pale and hardly said two words to anyone - he was like this weird ghost haunting the team.” Harry is laughing at the memory. “He knew nothing about how things worked here - he needed someone to take care of him.”

Olli is looking at Harry, eyes fond; Justin wants to punch Harry. It’s not a kind way to describe Olli, kind of mocking the young player he was then when he was in such a tough situation, trying to find his feet on a new continent. But Olli doesn’t seem to see anything wrong with it, so he has to let it ride. Justin tries to remind himself that Harry and Olli have been friends for several years, and this is probably just Harry chirping Olli. 

He still doesn’t like it though. 

“I was lucky, I had a BC junior team relocate close to where I grew up at the time I needed to start in juniors and they signed me,” Justin replies. “I couldn’t imagine moving halfway around the world at that age.”

“You seem to have had quite a few lucky breaks,” Harry says. “But yeah, having a junior team appear out of mid-air so you could stay at home - that’s some luck.”

Fortunately, Justin’s sandwich arrives so he’s able to take a deep breath, and re-set, trying to remain calm and friendly. 

“Where are you from, Harry? Was it close to London?” It seems a safe thing to ask about. 

“No, Kingston’s about a 9 hour round trip from London so I was billeted while I played with the Knights. It was good, helped me understand a little of what Olli went through, taught me to be self-sufficient. And my billet family were nice, really looked out for me.” He looks to Olli. “Although Emily - Olli’s billet mom - was the better cook. I used to go round there as often as I could, her cookies were amazing!” 

“Oh they were,” Olli replies. “They still are, she sends me some for Christmas still.”

“You never told me that - did you eat them all yourself when I was here?” Harry sounds annoyed.

“You weren’t here - you were in Wilkes-Barre last year!”

“I was called up for the Christmas before the trade. I can’t believe you hid the cookies from me,” Harry complains. “I was here!” 

“And do you remember what happened that Christmas?” Olli is looking at Harry like he can’t believe he said that. “I don’t think we were in a place to be sharing cookies. I don’t remember you speaking to me at all.”

“It was fine, it was a misunderstanding, we sorted it,” Harry says, waving his hand disarmingly. “Although maybe if you’d shared them, it wouldn’t have happened!” His tone is teasing but Olli doesn’t seem to take it that way, his face tight with disbelief . 

“Really?” Olli replies. “It was my failure to share Emily’s cookies which caused it? It wasn’t anything to do with you?”

Justin’s squirming inside, really not wanting to be here anymore while they go through whatever this is - but it’s clear the two have history, it’s like being in on a couple’s quarrel. He slouches down in his seat, trying to make himself invisible. His gut is churning listening to this. He wants to know more and he really doesn’t, worried for what he will find out. 

“Hey kid, I was just teasing! Of course it wasn’t. I thought we got past this at the time. I apologised didn’t I?” Harry says placatingly, hand reaching out to stroke at Olli’s hand. 

Olli moves his hand away, clearly still unhappy and just like that, Justin’s not sure he can take any more of watching this, oh so painful and personal as it is, Olli drawn tight and anxious and Justin not able to do anything to help. 

He straightens up, pushing back his chair. 

“Hey guys, thanks for lunch, but I’ve got to go and prep some sticks,” he says as he rises. “Sooner I get it done then the sooner I’m done for the day. I’ll see you later?” 

He hates himself for adding that question on, knowing how close it is to a plead, but it slipped through. 

Olli sits up abruptly from where he was slumping in his chair, re-focussing on Justin like he’s just remembered he’s there. 

“Justin, I’m sorry that wasn’t really.. We shouldn’t have... Don’t feel like you have to go. Stay and finish your sandwich at least!” 

“It’s fine, I’ll get it to go - I really need to go do those sticks. And I want to check in with the conditioning guys.” Justin is starting to feel bad now for saying he’ll go, but he also can’t stay and watch this. 

“You could stay, it’s not like you’ll be needing the sticks for a game anytime soon!” says Harry casually. 

For a moment, the world sways as Justin hears what is said but it takes a moment for his brain to comprehend that that was really said. 

“Harry!” hisses Olli, low and outraged. “What the fuck?” 

Justin wants to say something bitter and cutting in return, but his brain is just not co-operating and he knows he’s just standing there, staring stupidly at Harry, like a fucking idiot. He takes a breath instead, picking up his plate to take to the counter to get it to go. There’s nothing he can think to say - it’s kind of true after all. That’s what makes it worse. 

Then he remembers what Sully said about his battle mentality and being ready to go anytime he’s needed and he takes that thought and uses it to force the hurt away. He might not need a stick for a game soon; but he might also need it for the next game and he’s going to be ready. It doesn’t matter what Harry says. Justin’s actually on the Pens, is doing what Sully has asked and Harry, well he’s a Penguins reject after all.

Behind him, he can hear Olli and Harry in frantic, urgent, muttered conversation as the staff wrap the remains of his sandwich for him. 

As he turns to leave, Olli and Harry are there. 

“Hey Schultzer, I’m sorry, that was out of line.” Harry sounds penitent, but as Justin looks at him, he can’t see it. He’s doing it because he made Olli mad, not because he hurt Justin. Olli on the other hand is still looking stricken, hand reaching out to flutter along Justin’s shoulder in apology. 

He lets a rueful grin show. “It’s fine, there could be truth to it after all,” Justin says. “But we don’t know. Sully wants me to be ready to go at anytime so I need to go make sure I’m ready to do that.”

He eyes Harry, waiting to see if there’s any response, but there isn’t. 

Olli lets his arm drop. “No problem Justin, you go do what you need to do. I’ll see you later ok?”

Justin nods to that and heads out.

0–0–0

Time spent prepping sticks is therapeutic. It’s something he’s done since he was a kid - although then it was his one precious stick, not the unlimited supply he has now, which he still marvels at. Bones and Cully are also there, doing the same thing and by the time he’s done he’s relaxed and laughing at tales of Cully’s sons and the scouting reports they’ve been giving Cully on the Rangers. 

He hesitates when he gets home. Before he’d have gone round to Olli’s but now he hesitates before deciding that he can’t bring himself to intrude. So he heads to his own apartment, digs out the stash of takeout menus he’s still managed to collect and orders for one. 

It doesn’t seem much time at all when the doorbell rings; he snags his wallet on the way to answer it. 

To his surprise it’s Olli standing there, not the delivery boy. He’s dressed in jeans and his hair is tousled and he looks gorgeous. But Justin hesitates to reach out and touch, despite the fact he’d have been comfortable doing that just two days before. Instead he waves Olli into the apartment with a smile he hopes isn’t too uncertain. 

“Justin, I’m sorry,” Olli begins remorsefully. “For last night, for today, for not realising you’d been told you’re being scratched. I’ve been ignoring you and… Well it’s shitty and I’ve been shitty.” 

And yeah, Justin would agree with all of that, it has been, but Olli looking miserable is irresistible; he should never look miserable. It’s not been an easy time for Olli if he’s been having to put up with asshole Harry. 

“Hey Olli, don’t worry about it. Horny gave me a ride home so it wasn’t a big deal last night. There’s nothing to apologise for today. And I can’t say it’s a good thing I’m scratched, but I could see it was likely to happen after last night and Sully spoke to me this morning so I know what’s going on and why it’s happened and what he wants me to work on,” Justin finds himself automatically making coffee for Olli just how he likes it as he talks.

“What did Sully say?”

Justin starts to tell Olli in more detail, making himself a coffee from his machine and almost without thinking, they find themselves side-by-side on Justin’s sofa, chatting and laughing and talking comfortably again and it’s like Harry hasn’t happened. There’s still sensitivity on both sides but it’s healing again. 

But it seems no time at all until there’s a second knock on Justin’s door and this time it is his food delivery. It breaks the moment they’ve been in. Justin wants Olli to stay so much, but he’s looking uncomfortable and making his apologies for disturbing Justin when he’s about to eat. Justin invites him to stay and share the food, even invites Harry over, but it’s clear there’s not enough food for three. 

“Besides,” says Olli regretfully, “Harry wanted to go out tonight to some Japanese place he really liked when he was still here.”

So despite Justin’s best persuasion, Olli slips away again and Justin’s left eating his meal for one alone, feeling still just as uncertain and with things still unresolved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm pretty sure this won't have improved your collective feelings towards Harry! But you do have a bit of backstory now... 
> 
> Next chapter is hardly started but this was burning a hole in my google docs and it needed to get posted or I would pick at it continually and not write the next one!


	51. Playoff pressures

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Justin - and the team - are trying to understand Harry... against a backdrop of the most important hockey games Justin hasn't played in in his life.

The next couple of days are similarly as frustrating - Justin sees Olli at the rink, but doesn’t see much of him outside the rink. Their time at the rink is full - practice and video and maintenance and video and more video and special team video and defence video until Justin’s head is full of plans and strategies and what they should be doing and what they shouldn’t be doing. 

When he does see Olli, there are always others around so although they talk, it’s about the team and the play-offs; about inconsequential things which make him happy to be talking to Olli about but it’s also not enough. And when they do get some downtime, an hour snatched here for lunch, a coffee break, Harry is there, still insufferable and suffocating. So Justin keeps his distance, not wanting to have to endure watching them together, or the stream of barbs, chirps and general negativity which Harry comes out with constantly, seemingly as easily as he breathes. 

But there’s good news as well. As Sully had said, Geno is back - loud and ebullient in practice, bullying his way through the drills, doing amazing things with the puck. Rusty is also back - still wearing a boot outside the rink, but able to skate, still fast and dangerous on the ice even while he limps around slowly off it. 

And then in the pre-game prep, Justin finds himself unexpectedly next to Olli in the kitchen as he makes his pre-game snack, carefully slicing pickles onto his plate. He seems to have double the number he normally has. 

“You’re just doing the extras for the sake of the first Blueshirt you hit tonight,” Justin can’t help teasing. 

Olli snorts. “Pickle breath of doom!” 

Justin laughs, thinking of Zuccarello’s expression at that. “The Penguins’ secret weapon. No-one knows why our enemies quake before us.” He intones it in a silly voice-over voice. “I’d better not though - Duper would probably kill me if I came into the press box stinking of pickles.” 

He doesn’t mean it to be a mood killer, but it is. Olli stops laughing abruptly, face growing still. 

“You’re… that’s not fair you’re in the press box. You don’t deserve to be!” he says sadly. 

Justin shrugs. “As Sully says, he can’t play seven D any more, not with Geno and Rusty back and none of you guys deserve to be either. So that means I am. I mean, I don’t love it, I want to be playing but I can understand it.”

“It’s still not fair,” Olli protests. “You’ve worked so hard to get better and rebuild. And this is what you get!”

Justin shakes his head. “Olli, no, all of this,” and he waves his hands around them, “is what I get. Being here on the Penguins. Being in a good organisation that’s helping me get better. Getting to even play in one play-off game is way more than I’d have had on the Oilers - they’re golfing already remember? I go back three months, and I had no expectations of doing any of this. Things have changed so much. Sure, I want to be out there playing, but even not playing, it’s a thousand times better than it was three months ago. And then you’re here too and that makes it a million times better and I wouldn’t miss any of that for the world!” 

And then his brain realises what his mouth has enthusiastically carried him into again and internally he groans, because now is not the time, but Olli’s looking at him with his eyes shining and hopeful and his mouth soft. 

“You make things so much better too,” he says softly, and Justin has never wanted to kiss him so much and he can’t, not here, not now in this place. 

“I’ve missed you,” is all he says, all he can bring himself to say because he wants to say a lot more, but he can’t. Not here, not now, not in this place and at this time. 

Olli sighs. “Yeah,” he says. “I’m missing you too…. But it’s complicated. Harry was really important to me for a long time. I didn’t know he was coming back - he didn’t tell me. But now he’s here I can’t ignore him. And it should be easier to spend time with both of you- but somehow it isn’t. Harry has a lot of things he wants to do now he’s back so whenever I suggest stuff with you he always has other plans.”

He’s frowning now, stressed and tense, the ease from earlier gone. So Justin restrains his cynical snort - he’s pretty sure that there’s a reason why Harry has plans when Olli wants to spend time with him, but it obviously hasn’t clicked with Olli. 

“It’s fine,” he says in response even though it isn’t but he’s not going to put more hurt on Olli when he’s already feeling bad. “C’mere.” He holds his hands out without thinking and then realises that Olli may not want this from him now and his stomach lurches. But Olli comes willingly, settling into his arms like he belongs there and Justin’s stomach lurches again and he wraps his arms around Olli, tucking his chin onto Olli’s shoulder. 

“Don’t worry about it,” he mutters and feels Olli relax some more and he just enjoys the moment, the feel of Olli, even the smell of Olli. 

“Don’t let me stop whatever it is you’re doing!” 

The harsh voice comes from behind Justin but Olli’s instantly as rigid as a block of ice, pulling away quickly. Justin turns around to see Harry there. He’s come in with Dumo and Shears to the break room. 

Harry has a smile on his face but it’s the most false expression Justin’s ever seen. 

“Harry…” says Olli begins him but Justin cuts in because Harry is not going to make them feel bad for this with his ‘don’t let me stop you’ bullshit. 

“Hockey hugs - it’s a thing before every game,” he says. He tries to say it matter of factly but isn’t sure how successful he is. Harry snorts in disbelief 

Shears is giving him the eye behind Harry, one eyebrow raised questioningly, but unexpectedly butts in. “Schultzy is the best hugger on the team! Go to guy for hugs really.” 

“Oh really?” Harry says skeptically, turning to look at Shears, but Shears looks back at him, face open and innocent like he doesn’t even know what the word ‘lie’ means and Justin resolves there and then never to play poker with him. 

“Yeah,” replies Shears. “Look!” And suddenly Shears is there, in front of him, wrapping his arms around Justin like a small octopus. Tentatively Justin does the same. 

“Sell it!” mutters Shears commandingly in his ear. 

So Justin does. He pulls Shears in, relaxing into the hug, closing his eyes so he’s not aware of being watched like he’s on display in a zoo. Shears - well he snuggles, that’s the only way to describe it, he snuggles into Justin like he does this all the time. 

After a few moments they split apart, Shears stretching out like a cat as he moves away. 

“That was an awesome hug, thank you Schultzy!” He grins at Justin before turning back to Harry triumphantly. 

“I suppose, if you can’t do anything else then being the team hug-whore is a skill of sorts,” Harry says bitterly. 

Justin feels the breath snatched from him at that, shock wiping his brain clean of any possible response. Automatically he looks towards Olli but Olli looks just as shocked, mouth gaping open, eyes round with surprise and something that looks like anger starting up.

It’s Shears who steps into the silence. 

“Sounds like you’re the one in need of a good hug, if you’re going to say shit like that,” responds Shears. “I suppose it must hurt to see Schultzy respected, liked and welcomed on the Pens. But then he’s not an asshole, he’s a really nice guy, a good guy on the team and he’s made it easy for us to like him.” 

Justin blushes at that. But Shears’ eyes are flinty hard now and there’s no give on his face. The implication of his words are plain. It’s hard for Justin to reconcile the guy who he was snuggling with only moments ago, who laughed and joked with him in the locker room with the determined guy standing in front of him, not backing down an inch from this confrontation. In this moment, Justin can see the drive that took Shears from being an undrafted college player upwards into a place on an NHL team. 

Harry laughs and it’s hard and unpleasant. “I thought you had a girlfriend - does she know you’re pining for Schultzer? You need to keep her sweet, you know, you might lose your place on the team if she stops running to her uncle on your behalf - there’s no other way you’ll get on this team!”

“Harry!” cries Olli, sounding scandalised and angry. There’s an explosion of wrath from Shears but Dumo reaches out and pins him in place. 

“Get out,” says Dumo. He sounds furious too - Justin’s never heard him sound like this. “Get out now. Enough has been said - too much. We have an important game - a playoff game in two hours and this is not helping us prepare . Get out our faces, so we can focus on that and deal with this later. You’ve gone way too far, Harry.” 

Harry stands there for a moment but there’s nothing else said, so he turns on his heel and stomps out. There’s a beat of silence after he leaves. 

“Fucking asshole,” spits Shears. “He has no fucking right…”

“Shears, I’m sorry, he really doesn’t,” Olli interrupts. “He shouldn’t have said that, we know how hard you’ve worked to get here.”

“I don’t even know why you’re apologising for him Olli. You’re not his keeper!” Shears is indignant now as well as angry, seemingly on Olli’s behalf. “It’s not up to you to run around trying to get others to make allowances for him, to smooth the way over when he’s pissed off people again. Why should you have to take the consequences of what he says?” 

Olli looks at Shears, blinking anxiously, before dropping his gaze to his feet. 

“Because..” he says before grinding to a stop, unwilling to deny it and unable to explain it. 

“Because he’s Olli and he wants to think the best of everyone,” says Justin, stepping into the breach, putting a hand on Olli’s shoulder consolingly. “Even when they’re assholes. I bet he even defends the Flyers.”

There’s silence again as they take this in. 

“Yeah, I suppose,” says Shears thoughtfully. 

Olli’s shoulders relax a bit at that. “They’re really not that bad when you get to know them?” he says tentatively, eyes lifting to meet Shears’. 

Shears snorts at that. “Asshole. Like we’re going to believe you.” 

The tension in the room falls a little more - which is probably just as well as Tanger comes barreling through the door, heading to the kitchen briskly to start rounding up his pre-game snack. Only once he’s there does he seem to notice the four of them, standing in a cluster. 

“Oh hey guys, getting ready for the game?”

There’s a pause and then Dumo and Shears answer simultaneously. 

“Yeah, we were just going to eat our snacks!”

“We’d just finished our snacks!”

There’s an awkward silence and Tanger looks at them, head cocked and one eyebrow raised consideringly. Everyone else is looking everywhere else but at Tanger. 

“Hmmmmm,” he says. “I’m not sure I want to know, so long as you all make sure your heads are in the right place and ready to go tonight. If you can do that, I don’t need to know whatever the fuck was going on here. Ok?”

“Yes, Tanger,” mutters Dumo and Justin finds himself nodding along. 

Tanger nods in satisfaction and begins to make light, easy conversation with them as they too start on their snacks. Inevitably, the talk turns to the game tonight. 

“Is Harry going tonight, Olli?” Tanger asks. 

Justin freezes at the question and realises too late that tellingly, so have everyone else. 

“I got him tickets in the lower bowl,” Olli replies cautiously. “He was planning on going.” 

“Oh ok,” replies Tanger neutrally and thankfully leaves it there but Justin catches one of the glances he shoots over the table at them. 

But time is continually moving on, and all too soon, it’s time to go and ready for warm up. Justin hates warm up if he’s being scratched; on the one hand he feels part of the team but then when they go out to play, he’s left changing back into his suit and heading for the press box. Sonny is in the same situation as the back-up forward so together they make their way back up stairs and to the press box, joining Duper and Poo in the box. 

The game is already underway and the Pens are pressing strongly, controlling the play, getting in lanes as the Rangers try to break the puck out. 

Over the period the Pens are dominant, with Lundqvist making good save after good save to keep the Rangers in it. But they can’t beat him and the period ends goalless for both sides. Tishy’s had an easier ride than Lundqvist, but has matched him by keeping the puck out of the net. 

It’s with satisfaction on behalf of his team that Justin heads down to the ordered chaos of the locker room in the intermission. They’re doing a good job, doing what they need to be doing and the room has a feeling of confidence underlying the activity going on. 

The second gets off to a great start - Shears draws a penalty through perseverance on the puck and the top unit get down to it. Justin finds himself on the edge of the seat as he watches them pass the puck around - it’s a very different view up here from standing behind them or on the bench. 

It doesn’t go their way initially. The Rangers force a turnover and head with speed towards Tishy and Justin’s on the edge of his seat. 

But Horny steps up, breaking up the 2 on one developing as he intercepts the cross ice pass, bouncing the puck up to Tanger who feeds Bonino, breaking the other way. He’s got Dales and Phil in support and a beautiful set of fast and accurate tic-tac-toe passes leave Lundqvist looking slow and behind the play, and Phil buries it to give them a lead. 

The crowd erupts in a sea of gold, fear turning into an exaltation of relief and joy and Justin finds himself shouting too. 

The goal though give the Rangers the encouragement to start pushing back and the second period is not nearly so dominated by the Pens. Both sides are pushing now, but the Rangers are getting better looks at the Pens goal, and the Pens are starting to struggle to break the puck free. In the box, the three players with him have gone mostly silently, willing their teammates to hold their slender lead, to get another, to get the puck out and to protect Tishy. 

Then disaster strikes; from a face off, Yandle darts in from the blue line as the puck spins out across ice and scores into the empty net to tie the game up. And the swearing in the box has barely finished, the analysis quietening down as they work out what went wrong on that goal, when Brassard is sprung and is able to skate around Olli, finishing it high past Tishy’s shoulder to put the Rangers ahead for the first time in the game. 

“Tabernak,” exclaims Duper. 

Justin can’t take his eyes off Olli, knowing from the set of Olli’s shoulders as he skates to the bench - even from this distance - that he’s blaming himself for not being able to defend Brassard. It was down to Olli - but watching the replay, the puck took a bad bounce over his stick, freeing Brassard. It happens; but you always feel like you could have done more. 

The atmosphere is intense, the crowd willing the Pens to strike back - but soon after Rusty gets called for interference on Marc Staal and although he protests his innocence, the refs are having none of it and the Pens are on the penalty kill. 

They manage to kill it but they’re having problems getting any momentum and the roles are reversed as the Rangers are swarming them now and the Pens are struggling to get the puck out. Justin can feel their frustration, can see it in the body language at the bench. 

Then Millar manages to thread a cross-ice pass over to Zuccarello and he one-times it past Tishy, moving over too slowly, caught out of position by the pass and the Rangers have increased their lead. 

The crowd is quiet; the Pens are quiet but somehow, they get out of the second without conceding any more goals. 

The room is also quiet by the time Justin gets down there. There’s focus and intensity but they know they’ve let the Rangers get back in. Now they need to come back themselves. 

“Hey,” says Justin, making his way over to the defence stalls and Olli. “Rough period.”

Olli barely looks up. “I’ve had better,” he mutters. 

“Plenty of time,” Justin says consolingly, dropping into his stall. “You guys can do this. We’re resilient, we can come back.”

Olli looks up at that, smile glimmering. “Did Sully brief you on what to say before you came in here?” 

“No! He didn’t need to, I’ve been properly indoctrinated.” 

“I can tell.” Olli is looking more relaxed now though. 

“He is right though.” Justin hopes he is anyway, but there’s nothing Justin can do to affect the outcome except this. 

Colesy slides into his stall on the other side of Justin, coffee in hand. “Who’s right?”

“Sully,” responds Justin. “In saying we have resilience.”

“Yep, plenty of time!” says Colesy. “Just need to get the next one. Becomes a different game if we get the next one!”

He sounds so assured, Justin feels himself believing it and Olli’s no longer hunched up. 

Justin checks him over subtly; there’s no sign of the power bars Olli normally eats in the intermission so Justin goes over and fetches him a couple, dropping them into Olli’s lap. 

Olli begins unwrapping one automatically, starting to nibble on it. 

Sully bustles into the room. 

“Listen up. That wasn’t how we wanted that period to go; we put it behind us, forget it and we move on and make sure we win this period. We can still take this. We just need to stop playing their game and make them play our game. And here’s how we’re going to do it.”

He starts to detail what he wants them to do in the third, and Justin, as always, feels himself relaxing into Sully’s confidence and certainty, buoyed by his belief in them. 

Beside him, Olli is eating with more gusto, sitting up straighter and seemingly looking forward again, not back. 

0--0--0

By the time the team heads back onto the ice for the third, they are focussed and calm again, knowing what they need to do. 

But as he heads up stairs with Duper and the other scratches, there’s a quietness from the crowd which causes them to look at each other in concern. Just as they get back into the press box, the fourth Rangers goal is being announced, 39 seconds into the period. 

“Fucking Kreider,” Duper mutters as he hears who scored. 

They settle down, willing the Pens to get back into it. Then Sid gets called for slashing - but just as the penalty kill gets going, Kreider runs Tishy, and a scrum develops around the net. He gets sent to the box for some 4 on 4.. 

And then thankfully, Yandle is called for cross-checking on Geno, giving the Pens a 4 on 3. 

“C’’mon boys,” mutters Duper, “we need this.”  
They hear him. In less than ten seconds, Geno has thrown the puck to Bonino at the net who throws it to Phil who zips it across the ice, under Lundqvist’s flailing stick and into the net. 

The crowd erupts again, and Justin checks the clock - they have time to do this!

But for all their effort and desperation, they can’t get another past Lundqvist; the Rangers are grimly defending their lead now, giving the Pens few shot opportunities. Justin can feel the frustration rising from the ice and it starts to show in the play. 

Kuni fights Klein who goes after him after he slashes Marc Staal. It’s a clear slash in the aftermath of Staal avoiding Kuni’s hit and it drew an immediate penalty as well as Klein charging after Kuni. He goes to the box, face unrepentant and hard, but it’s matching penalties with Klein so there’s no advantage to be gained there. 

The time continues to tick down relentlessly and the Pens just cannot get the puck to the net and past Lundqvist. All too soon, they’re into the final two minutes and the guys in the box know it’s done and gone. 

They’ve lost to the Rangers. Worse than that, they’ve dropped a home game so they’ve lost home ice advantage. 

Justin realises that winning playoff games is elation and happiness and joy and satisfaction. 

Losing sucks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ok, I will admit that some of my characters may have got out of my control a bit in this one. What was meant to be quite a bit short scene got badly derailed by Sheary who insisted on getting involved. 
> 
> Probably around 2 weeks for the next one!


	52. Journeys

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Post play-off loss.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warnings for Hornqvist swearing quite a lot. Warnings you'll probably want to punch Harry, even though he's hardly in this one!

The room is subdued by the time he and the other scratches get down there, with the most audible noise being Horny swearing monotonously and regularly to himself as he strips off his pads, already mostly naked. It provides a counterpoint to the quietness of the room. In the goalie corner, Tishy is refusing to meet anyone’s eyes, teeth worrying his bottom lip as he strips off his gear. 

Justin goes over to the other defence to join them in solidarity. It feels like there is little he can do to help them right now but he’s got to try as he slides into his stall between Colesy and Olli. Duper’s gone over to Sid and is talking quietly to him. 

“Tough game,” Justin mutters. Olli looks at him, heavy eyed, but doesn’t respond beyond a nod; Colesy grunts. 

“Fucking Kreider, goalie running scum!” comes in counterpoint from the background in Swedish accented English. 

“It looked like it was so close,” Justin says commiseratingly. “You kept trying until the very end.”

“Fucking Zuccarello. Fucking Norwegian hobbit. Just fuck him. So fucking small you can’t even fucking see him on the fucking ice! How are we fucking meant to play against someone so fucking small? It shouldn’t be fucking allowed.”

“Horny!” says Sid quellingly and when Horny looks over to him, he nods towards Shears in his stall, face tight and uncomfortable, shoulders hunched. 

“Oh fuck, that wasn’t aimed at you, Shears. Never you! You were amazing out there tonight. Just fucking cheating Norwegian bastards who shouldn’t be fucking allowed.” Horny scowls and then his face lightens. “But I bet you one day soon, someone will be sitting in a locker room swearing about you in the same way, when you’ve outplayed them and taken the game.” 

Shears brightens, relaxing. “We know Lundqvist will be swearing about you regardless of whether we win or lose!”

“Hank has a special place in his heart for me,” replies Horny fondly. 

“If by that you mean a voodoo doll he sticks pins in regularly then yes, he does,” replies Hags dryly. “I’ve seen it.”

“He’s going to get all the love next game, all the love. He’s not going to know what hit him.” Horny is emphatic now, eyes glinting. But he quietens down as Sully bustles into the room - in fact the already quiet room quietens further, all the players waiting on Sully’s verdict. 

He looks around at them, and nods to himself seemingly satisfied. 

“That was a tough game,” Sully says, “And it wasn’t the result we wanted. There’s definitely things we can take from that, things we can learn and work on to improve. We’ll be doing that over the coming days. But we’d be doing that if we’d won too. I’m proud that you guys never gave up, you kept working for it and you didn’t panic when it started to go wrong. This is one game - out of seven. If we keep playing the way we know we can, playing our way, Penguins hockey, making them play how we want them to, we can win this round. I know you can do it. And we’re going to go to New York and win in their barn.”

They’re not in the place to cheer that - not after losing earlier - but there’s a lot of determined agreement from around the room. 

“Optional for those that want to skate tomorrow, otherwise do your own conditioning. If you need to see the trainers see them. That thing won’t go away by itself. Video in the afternoon and then we’ll head out to New York for the next two games. Sid, you had something?”

Sid nods. “There’s a lot of us here who haven’t played in the playoffs before and I just wanted to say - you have to be able to lose well. We’re never going to win every game. We need to have the mindset of accepting that, learning what we can from it and then forgetting about it to move onto the next one. The next one is a new game, a different game so we’ve got to let the losses go. Losing in the playoffs is a fact - to do well, we can’t let ourselves be hung up on the losses or believe they influence how the next game will go. Use the memory of how you are feeling now to drive you in the next game. We don’t want to feel like this again.”

He looks around the room. “And what Sully said about that thing not getting better by itself? He’s right and you know it.” 

He stares hard at Tanger as he says it but Tanger meets his eyes unashamedly, brow raised. 

“Ok, that all I got,” says Sid throwing his hands up in the air. 

Sully nods at him and departs and the focus of the room splits and fractures and slowly the noise builds up as each guy returns to his own post game routine. But it’s not as quiet as it was before. 

0–0–0

The team is starting to disperse when Olli turns to Justin with purpose. 

“Can I get a ride with you tomorrow?” 

Justin starts with surprise, moves to cover it. 

“For sure. I’ll have to be in for optional?” 

Olli smiles shyly. “I was planning on going too. I’d rather skate it out tomorrow than work it out. And if I get a ride in with you, then I can leave my car with Harry while we’re in New York.”

“Oh I assumed he’d be coming with us,” Justin says, feeling relieved. 

“Too difficult,” Olli says. “So he’ll hang in Pittsburgh while we’re over there.”

Justin digests this for a moment and likes the sound of it. Getting to spend time with Olli without Harry being around sounds great. 

“Cool,” he says, getting up to leave. “Come by around 9:30 tomorrow and we can head out.”

Olli follows him out. “Harry was hoping to catch Shears and Dumo and apologise to them. I’m sorry he said that thing about you too. I don’t know why he keeps saying stuff like that about you.”

Justin looks over at Olli, long and lean next to him, the beginnings of a light fuzz shadowing his face. Olli, who is usually painfully honest with himself, but right now is lying - either to Justin or to himself or both. Because it’s pretty obvious why Harry is behaving how he is. Justin knows he isn’t behaving much better but at least he’s not bad mouthing Harry to Olli at every opportunity and that’s because he doesn’t want to make things more difficult for Olli. Harry doesn’t seem to care about how Olli feels so long as Harry gets what he wants. 

“Don’t you?” is all he says in response to that but Olli looks stricken and that does leave Justin feeling bad. He’d just been congratulating himself on how he cared about what Olli felt and then he goes ahead and hurts him anyway. He tries to make it better. “Don’t worry about it Olli, I’ve had worse said... ” 

The rest of the reassurance he was going to give in a shout of “Olli” and Justin looks over the car park to see Harry coming towards them. 

Olli scuffs his shoe on the ground, huffs a breath. 

“I’d better go,” he says. “I’ll see you tomorrow?” There’s a glimmer of a smile when he says that and that’s enough to bring a grin to Justin’s face. 

“Yeah, tomorrow.”

Olli runs off to where Harry is waiting. As they turn to head towards Olli’s car, Harry wraps his arm around Olli’s shoulders and then glances back over his shoulder to see if Justin has seen it. 

Justin turns away abruptly and goes towards his own car. It’s a shitty end to a shitty day. 

0–0–0

Olli looks tired the next morning when he comes around, but Justin feels the same and he doesn’t have the excuse of having played yesterday. But they’re both pretty quiet, Olli sipping on his fancy tea as they drive in.

At the facility things are a bit louder - in part because Cully’s and Dale’s kids have snuck onto the team’s ice in their morning break and their childish calls are echoing around the facility. 

“I’ll go let them know we’ll be out soon,” Tommy says, hurriedly adjusting his jersey. “Rusty, you coming?” 

“Sure!” and Rusty exits the room behind him with speed, injured foot forgotten now he has a skate on. 

“Should he even be doing optional?” asks Bones, nodding to where Rusty has just departed. “He can barely walk.” 

“He can skate,” replies Horny. “The trainers would keep him off if they thought he needed to.” He grins for a moment. “Although I’m not sure they thought about him playing shinny with the boys!” 

Sure enough, when Justin listens, the higher pitched calls of Cully and Dales’ kids have been joined by the deeper tones of Rusty and Tommy. 

“Trevor said something about a grudge match,” Dales adds. “I’m not sure you could keep them away. Surprised Shears isn’t out there as well.”

Shears flushes in his stall. “I got banned,” he says. “They said the three of us were too many because they were just kids and that I was too competitive. Which is rich coming from them!” 

Dales laughs, warm and deep. “You mean you got played,” he says. “‘Sounds like they scammed you into stopping playing to increase their chances of winning. I bet they gave you enormous sad eyes as they said it? The bigger the eyes, the more they’re playing you.”

Shears stares at Dales in amazement, consternation spreading across his face. “Why those little… oh sorry Dales!” and snatches up his helmet and heads out the room. 

Dales is laughing as he finishes gathering his kit; he’s not the only one, there are quite a few grins around the room as the players realise how the boys had fooled the mongooses into giving up an advantage. 

“We’d better watch that during the playoffs,” Tanger mock growls. “Or the other team will try to tell them they’re not allowed to play and they’ll bench themselves. I hadn’t realised they were so gullible!” But his lips are twitching as he says it. 

0--0--0 

The skate is lightly attended but not as light-hearted as the room was beforehand. Given the loss yesterday, there’s a focus and a seriousness to it. 

But Justin enjoys the simple pleasure of getting out onto the ice again, able to put everything else to one side and focus on technique and strategy and systems. Where it had been something he had come to dread in Edmonton, another way of being reminded of his inadequacies, he’s remembering why he wanted to be a hockey player here. So he works with a willing heart, pushing to do everything as well as he can - it might not be much, but at least it feels right again. Taking pleasure in working his stick to prevent a shot, in tying up an attacker’s stick - little things that he seemed to have lost the ability to do, frozen into indecision and now, it’s becoming second nature again. And it feels good. 

The rest of the day is rather less fun, but necessary. They work through video of last night's’ defeat and special teams work. But it still passes relatively quickly and then they’re heading off to the airport to go to New York for the next game tomorrow. 

0--0--0

The annoying thing about travel to New York is that the journey in from the airport to their hotel takes about as long as the flight from Pittsburgh does. Justin stares out the window watching Newark sliding by slowly as the bus inches it’s way through traffic towards lower Manhattan. Beside him, Olli fidgets restlessly. They’d assumed their standard bus seating, just as they had on the plane, team sliding into its accustomed places without a second thought by now. Justin had made sure to board early, give Olli the choice of sitting next to him or not; it wasn’t a decision he wanted to have to make for them. 

Olli had slide into the seat next to him both times, but then they’d barely spoken. Justin hadn’t known what to say and the longer the silence had gone on, the thicker and harder it had seemed to be to break. It hadn’t been uncomfortable; just something where they either said too much or nothing at all. And for most of this, Justin has been comfortable with saying nothing at all. He’s been trying not to think about it too much, to retreat into the feelingless bubble that had become his safety place in Edmonton. 

But something has changed and he’s not sure what, but it’s harder to get to that emotionless void he’d used before. It’s still there, but it’s not as satisfying and safe feeling as it was only weeks before. 

Where before there was soothing nothingness, now he feels like it’s empty and not enough. It’s all caught up with how things have changed for him he thinks - there’s been too much good stuff for him here in Pittsburgh. When he tries to ignore how he feels, he loses the good stuff - whether that be Olli, or how great and supportive his team mates have been or how good it is to be on a team which plays good hockey and actually wins. Even this morning when he realised how much pleasure he took from doing things on the ice - maybe not well yet, but not horribly either. He wants to feel the happiness he gets from those things. If he’s retreating inwards, he doesn’t get to do that. 

So he’s getting tired of the uncertainty of it all and realises he can’t keep on ignoring it and pretending it’s not happening. He doesn’t know what’s going on. Olli had still chosen to sit with him as though nothing has changed but he too had barely spoken. He knows they had the loosest possible relationship, but they’d agreed they had one and if he’s honest with himself, he wants to know if he still has one. He wants to still have one. Before he’d been too afraid of the answer to ask the question, had been content to let things ride and see how they went. Now, he’s getting to the point where he wants to know where he stands, even if he won’t like the answer. There’s a friendship that could be salvaged, maybe, if the relationship is over. 

He stews it over more, worrying about whether to say something to Olli or not, weighing up the pros and cons of it all, trying to find the best way forward for him, to figure it out and meanwhile, they slowly make their way through Manhattan. 

By the time they’ve reached the hotel and disembarked and got to the isolation of his room, so quiet and empty after the streets of New York, he’s not sure he’s any closer to an answer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't usually like cliffhangers, but I thought it appropriate you get to feel some of the uncertainty that Justin's feeling! =) 
> 
> Oh this has been a roller coaster playoffs! Please Pens, do the thing tonight! 
> 
> Playoffs are distracting from writing. And I had most of this chapter written, when I had a crisis about how pertinent to the plot it is (because let's be frank, most of it isn't) and whether I should move it to the Behind the scenes part and begin again with something that actually advanced the plot a bit more. But Justin decided to think about his feelings and made some realisations so I decided to run with it. 
> 
> It is a salutary thought that if I could keep better control over this and not get sidetracked by Cully's kids playing the mongooses (among other things) this story could be finished by now.


	53. In vino veritas

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Apparently, Olli and wine don't mix. Who knew?!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Super long chapter because I didn't want to split it and and characters were pulling at my plot line a bit. Just at the moment, I feel like I'm standing between them with a cattle prod screaming "Stop touching!" I have a time line and they do not want to stick to it!

They don’t have long to get ready before they’re meeting for team dinner. They have a routine in New York which Sid had been insistent they follow - so it’s two blocks over to the Italian steak house that has a private room that they’ve been using since Mario’s days on the team. They’re greeted like old friends and the proprietor has even hung a Penguins banner in the room for them. Justin suspects this is more in recognition of how much they are about to spend than any real support. The banner is hung behind the door, out of sight of any casual onlookers passing by. 

They even have a special, trainer approved menu - something to appease the trainers for letting them out of their sight the night before a playoff game.

“Looks good,” says Olli, sat next to him, checking out the menu. “I thought they’d take all the good stuff off the menu.”

“The baked cheesecake isn’t on it,” Justin says disappointedly. It is heavenly - rich and luscious and sweet but not too sweet. 

Olli laughs. “I suspect there may be some cheesecake smuggling later. Sid will probably justify it in the name of tradition!” 

Justin has to laugh at that. By the looks of things, Justin definitely isn’t the only one unhappy over the absence of the cheesecake; further down the table, Geno can be heard laughing at the look on Sid’s face. 

Anyway, they make their orders with not a word said about cheesecake, but a lot of good food ordered. Their wait person looks kind of staggered by the volume but the veterans shrug it off as necessary so the younger guys follow their lead. 

As they settle back to wait Cully looks over to Murrs. 

“So Murrs, play-off debut at Maddison Square Garden… that’s not at all intimidating!” He laughs, but it’s understanding and warm. 

Murrs’ mouth tightens. He looks calm - as he always does - but there is a tightness to him. 

“It’s just another game, doesn’t matter the venue!” He says it matter of factiy. “I’ve just got to go out there and stop the pucks. That’s it.”

Tishy nods in support. “Murrs is gonna be great. The Rangers are going to think that we’ve installed a brick wall in the net. The Garden will be so quiet, he’s gonna shut up all their fans.” 

“Between Horny giving all the attention to Lundqvist and Murrs being all deadly and Murrs-like at the other end the Rangers aren’t going to know what hit them!” Colesy is chortling. Murrs shoots him a flash of confusion. 

“Murrs-like? What does that even mean?” he asks, brows furrowed. 

“Well you know…. “ Colesy drags it out until Murrs is glaring at him with impatience. “All young and looking like you’re barely out of school and like you’ve never played a hockey game in your life, but then you get in the net and the pucks just stick to you, and nothing gets by and you’re glaring at their net front guy like he’s offended your grandmother and slowly the other team realises that you absolutely know what you’re doing.”

“Well, he usually does offend my grandmother,” Murrs says mildly, but he’s trying to hide how pleased he looks by the compliment. “Some of the things those guys say - their own grandmothers would be ashamed.” 

There’s a chuckle around the table at that, but the food starts to arrive then, and there’s a lull as it gets passed out, orders being distributed around the table, a very few bottles of wine being passed around. Not many - not with a game tomorrow, but enough for a glass each. 

The chat moves on - discussing other playoff rounds, how the Caps are doing against the Flyers. 

“I hope they both lose,” mutters Tanger, darkly. 

“I don’t know, I think playing the Flyers in the playoffs could be fun,” says Shears brightly, topping up his own and Olli’s wine glass. Justin demurs, even though he isn’t playing tomorrow, sending the bottle on around, his own glass half full. “Flower could teach us more French to chirp Giroux with!” 

Tanger shudders at that. “You can always use Google translate to teach you some Russian for Ovechkin instead,” he replies. 

Rusty’s mouth falls open. “Crap, why didn’t we think of that sooner? We could have been doing it all season.”

There’s a noise of protest from Geno further up the table. “I am not listening to you chirping Ovechkin in bad Russian,” he growls. “If I hear any, I fine you. And Tanger, you I also fine double for giving them the idea.” 

Tanger just raises his brows at Geno superciliously. “If I have to hear bad French, then you can do the same for Russian.”

Geno shrugs. “Try it and see what happens!” 

“Maybe you could confuse everyone and do it in pig latin?” suggests Phil. His eyes are gleaming suspiciously, but his face looks serious. But it’s Phil - that doesn’t mean he is serious. 

“Pig latin?” asks Tommy. “What’s that?” 

So Phil has to explain about the pseudo-language, explaining the way vowels and consonants are switched around. There’s a babble of noise once he is done, as some of the guys around the table try it out. 

Eventually Tommy shakes his head. “My brain is fried trying to do it here - there’s no way I could do that on the ice. English is not my first language, guys!” 

Rusty nods his head in agreement as he empties the last of a bottle of wine into Olli’s glass then stares ruefully at it, like he hadn’t realised how little there was left in it. “Way too hard. I can either play or do that, but not both!”

“You could always just chirp in English, like you know, the rest of us do,” suggests Justin. 

“That’s less fun!” insists Shears. “But it seems like what we’re going to have to do.” He glances down the table to where Geno is sitting. 

“Or maybe worry less about your chirp game and more about your actual game? We don’t score by chirping,” Cully’s tone is mild but it does quiet the mongooses a bit. 

“I scored!” says Tommy. Cully grins at him in reassurance. 

“Tommy scored!” echoes Olli, holding his wine glass up in salute. Justin looks at him; he’s looking flushed but relaxed, but then the staff are in removing the plates and dishes, replacing them with desserts. 

It seems like everyone has got their desserts except Sid who is looking increasingly pissed off, when the maitre d’ is ushered into the room. In his hands is a large plate and as he lowers it in front of Sid the rest of the table can see there is an entire baked cheesecake on it, complete with black and gold decoration. 

“Mr Crosby, we know it wasn’t on the approved list but we couldn’t let you leave us without making sure you got some cheesecake!” he announces proudly. “As a proud yinzer I want to do anything I can to help you. Good luck tomorrow!”

Sid acknowledges it with a head tilt and a massive grin and there are cheers and whoops from around the table. The maitre d’ acknowledges it and then leaves them to it. 

“Don’t think you’re getting any of it!” Sid says, staring challengingly at the rest of the table, one hand curved protectively around the plate in front of him. 

“You can’t eat it all,” replies Tanger emphatically. “Not even you; you won’t be able to skate tomorrow! Girardi would have no problems keeping up with you.” 

“I can eat a lot of it,” Sid insists. 

“We’re staging an intervention,” says Bones. “We’ve got to protect you from yourself!”

“You just want some of my cheesecake,” complains Sid. 

“Oh yes,” says Bones. “And I’m going to get some too.”

Sid continues to resist but eventually has to give in as the team are all insistent, so eventually Bones gets his cheesecake. They all do, even if they have to order another one to make sure there’s enough to go around. 

Justin closes his eyes in ecstasy as the silky spoonful bursts across his taste buds. It’s so good! 

He’s maybe not as successful as he though at suppressing the embarrassing groan he’d made as he bit into it; from beside him there’s a giggle and he opens his eyes to find Olli staring at him lasciviously, cheeks bright and flushed. 

“Justin, that sounded so hot,” he purrs into Justin’s ear draping himself across Justin’s shoulder. But it’s what Olli’s hand is doing that really attracts his attention. 

It’s sliding Justin’s now empty glass of wine back to where Justin had thought it was all along. 

“Did you just steal my wine?!” 

Olli grins at him, unashamed, still draped across Justin. “You weren’t drinking it, babe and it’s really good! I don’t always like wine but this one is really nice. Too good to go to waste so I finished it for you!” 

He beams at Justin like it’s the most understandable thing in the world. From across the table there’s a choked sound from Colesy. 

“Holy shit, Olli’s drunk.” Colesy at least keeps his voice low, trying not to draw attention to what’s happening.The mongooses are watching, eyes wide and round but giggling. 

“Am not!” protests Olli. “I haven’t had that much. Just my glass and then Shears and Rusty and Tommy gave me more and then I had some of Justin’s. That’s not that much. I’m not drunk, just sleepy, honestly. And Justin’s very comfy. He never minds me cuddling him, do you kulta pieni?”

Colesy’s right; Olli’s definitely had too much to drink and Justin really needs to get him back to the hotel before he says anything much more incriminating. Get him back and pour 17 gallons of water into him so he won’t have any adverse effects of this tomorrow. 

But Cully is also sitting close by them and has overheard. Dad’s glaring at the mongooses, clearly not amused. 

“Why did you keep giving him more wine, boys?” Cully’s looking at the three mongooses named by Olli. There’s silence in response, all three staring at the table, the color rising high on Shears’ cheeks. 

“Rusty?” questions Cully. 

Rusty starts ands looks imploringly towards Tommy and Shears but they refuse to meet his eyes, Tommy hunching down further so his shoulders cover his ears. 

“We’d heard he doesn’t need to drink a lot of wine to get drunk and that he’s a very sloppy drunk on wine,” mutters Rusty, his stammer more pronounced with his nervousness.

“And you thought it would be a good idea to do that the night before a play off game, Shears?” Cully continues. His tone is more gentle than Justin would have thought possible but somehow that makes it all the worse. 

Shears chews on his bottom lip, but there’s no getting away from Cully’s interrogation. “Olli’s been unhappy and stressed recently and we thought it might help him to be able to relax before the game! We didn’t mean to get him as drunk as this, just loosen him up a bit! It really doesn’t take a lot of wine, he’s hardly had any!”

“I’m not unhappy!” insists Olli indignantly. “I was really happy before” and he pats at Justin’s head as he says this before continuing, “Then Harry came back and now I don’t know what to do.”

Oh shit. Justin grabs at his water glass, forcing into Olli’s hands. 

“Olli, I need you to drink this,” he says enticingly. “You’ll feel better when you do!”

“Is it as good as the wine was? Why’s all the wine gone?” Despite Olli’s complaint, he takes the glass. He does pull a face after he tastes it. “This is just water though. But I’ll drink it for you because you asked me to and I know you’ll look after me!” 

Justin scrubs at his face with his free hand. He’s willing to bet just about everyone listening into this have guessed about him and Olli right now. 

“Ok,” says Tanger decisively. “Here’s what we’re going to do. Schultzy, you’re going to take Olli back to the hotel and look after him since he seems happy to accept that from you. Keep him hydrated and try to flush out the alcohol from his system. Rusty, Shears, Tommy..” He pauses and looks at them hard and all three shrink a little. “You’re going to help Schultzy get Olli home and anything at all Schultzy needs, you’re going to get for him and Olli. He’s helping you clear up a mess you created so until curfew hits, you will fetch and carry and buy and bring anything he thinks he might need. You’ll scout the way in for press and if they are there, distract them so we can get Olli into the hotel safely. We do not need media carrying tales of him drunk before a play off game.”

“I’ve let everyone down,” Olli interrupts to say. His eyes are sad. 

Tanger sighs. “Listen to me, Olli. You have not let anyone down. Your teammates have played a nasty trick on you and they’ve let you down.” He glares at the three, who shrink even smaller. “But Justin’s going to look after you and you’ll be fine for tomorrow.”

He pauses and looks to Cully. “Anything else you can think of?” 

Cully purses his lips. “Nothing I can think of, I think you have this covered. I don’t think we need to involve any trainers unless he gets much worse than this but Schultzy - if he gets worse or starts to be sick, tell Stewy, regardless of the consequences. We can’t mess with this at this stage.” 

Tanger nods agreement. “Ok boys, go and scout out the route back to the hotel and message us if it’s clear.”

0--0--0

Somehow they manage to get Olli back to the hotel without being seen, and safely into his room. It’s not the easiest job in the world - Olli is drunk and not especially co-operative, but through a mix of cajoling, manipulation and guilt-tripping they get him there. A quick search of all of their rooms provides a stock of Gatorade that should be suitable to make sure he stays hydrated, so Justin sends the three away after that; desperate to get Olli away from them so he doesn’t incriminate them anymore. 

“We didn’t mean it to go like this,” Shears says regretfully. “Call us if you do need anything.” Tommy and Rusty nod their agreement and he’s thankfully left alone with Olli. 

“Finally,” says Olli. “I didn’t think they were ever going to leave!” He makes grabby hands towards Justin from where he’s leaning against the headboard of the bed. “C’mere so I can kiss you!”

Justin sighs. It’s really tempting. He could just forget about all the other shit about Harry and he’d get to kiss Olli. There’s a lot that’s attractive about that. 

He firmly sets temptation to the side. “I can’t do that Olli, you’ve had a lot to drink and I don’t know if you’ll still want to do that tomorrow.” He walks over and hands him an open bottle of Gatorade. “Drink your Gatorade instead.”

Olli blinks at him, then takes a mouthful, pale throat moving as he swallows, before putting it down. “I don’t care about tomorrow, I want to kiss you now!” 

Justin picks it up and hands it back to him. “We can’t do that. Keep drinking your Gatorade.” 

There’s a reflex ingrained in hockey players and that’s to drink from an open bottle of Gatorade in your hand; Justin is all too grateful for it as Olli takes another mouthful. 

“Why don’t you want to kiss me?” Olli is actually pouting now, lips lush and wet from where he’s been drinking and oh so tempting. “Is it the Gatorade? You don’t like this flavour. You don’t want to kiss me because I’ll taste of this and you’ll think I taste disgusting. Is there any green? You like the green one!” 

He starts to twist around as though to look for any bottles of green Gatorade that might be around. Rusty had had one, but Olli prefers the yellow Gatorade so Justin had started with that. 

“No, no, it’s fine. It’s not the Gatorade flavour - something like that wouldn’t stop me.” He corrals Olli back on the bed, sitting down beside him. 

“Olli, you’ve had too much to drink. You’re not you. I don’t know if what you’re feeling now is how you’ll feel later when you’ve sobered up. I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He feels his cheeks flaming; it sounds so formal and ridiculous, but he’s not doing it. 

Olli blinks at him a moment, head tilted, considering. “Oh it’s Harry! You think I might not want to kiss you tomorrow because of Harry so you don’t want to kiss me now.” He sighs, heavily. “If Harry were here, he’d do it. He tried to get me drunk when he came back because he wanted to have sex and I didn’t think I should. I didn’t have sex with him. So I know what I’m doing, even when I’m drunk, which I’m not, so Justin, so can we kiss now, please?”

Olli’s looking at him hopefully now, but Justin’s both stunned by Olli’s casual admittance that Harry had tried to get him drunk enough to have sex and elated that Olli hasn’t had sex with him. 

“Harry tried to get you drunk so you’d agree to have sex with him?” 

“He got me drunk, but I didn’t have sex with him. That would’ve broken the agreement we made and that’s important. It wouldn’t be fair on you to break it. And I’m not sure I want to anyway. Then I wouldn’t get to kiss you. But you’re not letting me kiss you now.”

“No, I’m not,” agrees Justin. “It wouldn’t be right. Finish your Gatorade and then we’ll get you ready for bed. You said earlier you were sleepy - we’ve the game tomorrow, you need to make sure you get enough sleep.” Usually, give Olli the opportunity to sleep and he’ll grab it. Justin hopes it’s the same now. 

“You’re staying here with me though? You said I’d get ready for bed, not us. I miss you even though you won’t kiss me, kulta pieni.” 

Justin nods, lump in his throat at that honest declaration. “I’ll stay,” he starts hoarsely and then swallows. “I’m the nominated Olli keeper tonight.” He manages to say that more lightly. “Now drink your Gatorade and we can get ready for bed.”

Olli stares at him a moment longer, chewing on his lip and then lifts the bottle and chugs the rest of it down, wiping the back of his hand casually across his mouth to wipe off any excess. 

“You get ready for bed, I’m gonna go get my stuff from my room ok?”

Olli nods and watches him stand up before doing likewise and heading for the bathroom. 

Justin slips out of Olli’s room and along to his own, grabbing up what he’ll need for the night. At least they’re staying on in New York after the game so he doesn’t need to worry about packing. 

But he also takes a moment to breathe and try to find his centre of balance again after what Olli has just unwittingly revealed. It’s a lot - Olli and Harry are not together despite how Harry has been behaving because Olli doesn’t want to break what he and Justin have. That Harry would try to seduce Olli, would try to get him drunk to turn his no into a yes makes Justin want to punch Harry more. But it also strengthens Justin’s resolve not to be like Harry. Olli may say he wants to kiss but Justin’s not going to do that until he knows it’s what Olli really wants and not the wine talking. 

He quickly goes about his own preparation for bed before returning to Olli’s room. Olli is still in the bathroom, singing quietly to himself in what Justin thinks is Finnish but he stops mid-phrase as he comes out to find Justin putting another bottle of Gatorade onto Olli’s nightstand alongside some Tylenol. 

“You’re back! I wasn’t sure you’d come back,” Olli says quietly. 

“Why wouldn’t I come back?” Justin is puzzled by that; it’s really come out of left field. He goes around to Olli’s side of the bed, pulling back the covers and patting It invitingly. Olli moves to stand before him, looking at him searchingly. 

“You don’t want to kiss me so maybe you didn’t want to spend the night here? Harry keeps telling me I’m lucky he came back for me, that no-one else would come back as I’m not worth coming back for. He wants me to have learned my lesson from last year about what I need to do to keep a boyfriend. So I wasn’t sure if you’d come back after you left.” Olli says this matter of factly, like he doesn’t get how ridiculous he sounds, but his eyes are unhappy and his mouth is drawn and taut and he’s curled in on himself in a way that radiates discomfort and fear. 

Justin’s eyebrows shoot straight up at what he’s said, driven by the hot flame of anger that rushes through him. 

“Then Harry is a fucking asshole who doesn’t deserve you if he thinks that and he’s a fucking bastard for saying that to anyone, let alone you. You need to be with someone who recognises you and values you Olli, not with someone who belittles you and puts you down so you won’t leave him,” Justin says passionately. “You deserve so much more than that!” 

Olli is silent at that, eyes shifted away to stare at the bed, at Justin’s hand clenched tight in the sheets. He consciously relaxes it, smooths the crumpled sheet, tries to rein back the angry words he wants to pour out. He takes a breath. Olli is his own person, can make his own choices. 

He tries for a calmer tone. “Olli, Harry’s so wrong. Lots of people would love to spend time with you, be with you and yes, that includes me. Definitely. And I want to do that because you’re an amazing person and it’s an honour to think you count me as a friend, never mind anything more. So please; don’t think that how he describes you is how people see you. We don’t. You are an outstanding person and it’s not just me that thinks that. Look at the way the guys on the team look out for you, respect and admire you. They wouldn’t be like that if they didn’t like you Olli. You are respected and loved for who you are, and the crap that Harry tells you is more about Harry than about you. You are a million times better than him.”

Olli looks up at that, eyes dark in his pale face and Justin is shocked to see his eyes glistening with unshed tears. 

“I don’t deserve you,” Olli mutters. “I really don’t. I’m not sure I can believe it yet, but it helps to know other people think like that even if I can’t. You don’t know how much I needed to hear that, to hear something other than what Harry’s been telling me. It just gets hard not to believe him sometimes. I know I shouldn’t ask this of you, that it’s unfair to ask but will you…. will you just hold me?” 

As if Justin could have said no, but he would be late to Sully’s practice a thousand times if Olli asked him looking like that, eyes dark and wide and still shining with tears, dressed in his ridiculous Moomin pyjamas and looking so young and vulnerable. 

“C’mere,” he says sitting on the bed and drawing Olli down into it after him, snagging the Gatorade as he does so. As he wraps an arm around him, he hands Olli the bottle. “But you have to drink this too.” He drops a kiss onto his head. “You may be amazing but you’re also going to be hungover in the morning if you don’t.”

There’s a put upon sigh from Olli as he relaxes into Justin, wrapping himself around him before opening the bottle and taking a large mouthful before setting it down and hitting the light switch. 

“Happy now?” Olli mutters. “I’m not going to get hungover, I wasn’t drunk.”

“I’m content,” Justin replies, taking the question at face value. “No better place than this to be right now. With you, here and now, in the playoffs. What’s not to be happy about? Anyone who isn’t and doesn’t recognise how lucky they would be to be here is a fool.”

Olli holds him tighter at that, and he feels the kiss on his shoulder, where Olli’s head is resting. 

“You won’t say that when I keep waking you up to pee with how much you made me drink.”

Justin grins at Olli’s tone but snuggles him closer and breathes him in as he feels sleep encroaching. He really doesn’t want to be anywhere else right now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> :((((((((((((( 
> 
> Always next season. Kind of glad they didn't limp through to play the Lightning - a nice long summer to rest up is what the coach ordered. But it's been an amazing two years and I don't think as a Pens fan I can complain too much. They're my team and I'm amazingly proud of them!
> 
> Anyway... spot the small homage to Pirates of the Caribbean. Thanks to the person who helped with the very small amount of Finnish used. I hope I got it right after her careful explanations!


	54. Chapter 54

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Aftermaths! What happens the morning after...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> SURPRISE! 
> 
> Honestly this chapter wrote in about 3 days. I was kind of gobsmacked. So I could make you wait another 10, or I could post it now. 
> 
> Don't get used to this.

Justin becomes aware that he’s too hot around the same time he realises he’s in yet another hotel room and not at home and that there’s a pair of muscular, pale arms wrapped around him. If he squints, he can see some honey blonde hair in his peripheral vision; belonging to the same person who is gently snoring into his right shoulder. He grins wryly; he could have sworn he was not the little spoon when he fell asleep but somehow, during the night Olli had managed to reverse their positions - he vaguely remembers being woken a couple of times when Olli had to get up to use the toilet. A glance at the nightstand shows another empty bottle of Gatorade and a third one half drunk, so at least he knows Olli continued to hydrate through the night. 

He squirms out from underneath Olli to make a grab for his phone, just within reach on the nightstand and discovers it’s over an hour until breakfast is served. But he doesn’t feel tired enough to go back to sleep, so he idly starts to flick through it; emails, messages, news, NHL results, with one hand. With the other, he finds himself idly playing with Olli’s hair, enjoying the feel of the silkiness beneath his hand. 

It doesn’t take long before Olli begins to stir and then he’s eventually opening his eyes sleepily, looking at Justin by the light of his phone with some confusion. 

“Mwarrh,” he mutters before burying his head back into the pillows. 

“Morning. It’s 8:05, breakfast is from 9 and we’ve got morning skate at 11. How are you feeling?”

An eye appears blearily blinking at him. 

“Nough oo thad” Olli responds through the pillow. 

“Sorry, I didn’t understand that!” 

Olli digs his head out of the pillow with an exasperated sigh. “Not too bad.”

“That’s great, babe. No headache? Hungover?” 

Olli shakes his head at those before obviously deciding it’s not worth trying to go back to sleep and wriggling around onto his back and starting to stretch. 

“No, I feel fine. I did have to get up to pee three times though,” he says. 

“That’s good, means we managed to stop you getting dehydrated!” Justin says brightly. Olli just gives him a look that speaks volumes of his dislike of such brightness so early. 

“I wasn’t that drunk,” he replies with dignity. 

“So what were you calling me in Finnish last night then at dinner? Kalta something?”

Olli starts at that and his blush spreads across his face. “I didn’t say that,” he denies. 

“Really?” Justin replies with a grin. “I’ve no idea how I learned it otherwise then. Maybe I heard Raanta call me that during a game or something? What does it mean, Olli?”

“It’s not important, I shouldn’t have said it,” Olli’s face is flaming now. “I just got a bit carried away in the moment.”

Justin digests this for a moment. He doesn’t think Olli’s going to tell him; he’ll just try to have to ask someone else who speaks Finnish if he wants to find out, and he’s fairly intrigued by it. 

“So getting carried away, but not that drunk then?” Justin teases. 

“Well, maybe a bit,” Olli concedes. “Justin, about last night, what happened back here… I am sorry… I shouldn’t have kept pushing when you’d said no. You were looking out for me.” 

Justin shrugs, turning to look at Olli more. “It’s no big deal, I just didn’t want you to do anything you might have regretted later.” 

“Well I regret trying to make you kiss me, but I don’t think I would have felt like I regretted kissing you now.”

“Really?” squeaks Justin. “So you still want to kiss me?” Suddenly the room is hot and his mouth is dry. 

“Yeah,” admits Olli, smiling slightly. 

Justin slides a little closer. “So you wouldn’t mind if I kissed you now?” 

Olli shakes his head, leaning towards Justin, lips slightly parted and Justin is there. Olli’s lips are dry and morning breath is a thing but he doesn’t care. He can feel the fizz of sensation where their lips meet, gently at first and then with increasing strength. Olli’s hand is in his hair and he feels a breathy sigh drawn out of him at how good, how right it all feels, how much he’s missed this. 

It feels like forever and no time at all when they are interrupted by Olli’s phone vibrating on the nightstand. 

“Please tell me that’s an alarm,” Justin mutters, pulling back from Olli who is now reaching for his phone. Olli shakes his head, sliding his thumb across the screen. 

“Hey Harry, how are you?” He says it brightly, like he hadn’t just been interrupted in kissing Justin, like Justin hasn’t just spent the night with him and like he hadn’t told Justin how Harry had been treating him. Justin feels his anger from last night returning and somehow that must communicate to Olli as he turns to Justin, laying a finger across Justin’s lips in an unmistakable ‘keep quiet’ sign. 

“Yeah, I’m sorry I didn't call last night. I got caught up in a team dinner and then just wanted to get to bed - I had a bit too much to drink and needed to make sure I slept it off for today. I never thought to call, I’m sorry. What did you do last night?”

His face goes oddly blank at whatever Harry says. 

“Well, I hope you had fun then,” he says. There’s a pause and then Olli responds to whatever Harry said, his voice sharpening. “You brought someone back to my apartment?” 

Another pause and Olli’s looking furious now. Justin tries to pat his arm soothingly but Olli throws him off. “I’ve told you before I’m not into threesomes. I thought I was very clear last time you slept with someone else and then suggested it? And now you’re talking about it in a city where I play for the very well known hockey team. That will not be happening. If you want to sleep with him, that’s up to you but I can’t believe you brought him him back to my place and now you’ve suggested that!” 

Justin doesn’t think he’s ever seen Olli so angry. He’s also not sure Olli will want him to hear such a personal conversation so he catches Olli’s eye and signals towards the door. Olli shakes his head with a vicious, abrupt gesture. 

“You think it could it do what? Well none of my other partners have had any complaints. Perhaps if I’m such a crap, unsatisfactory fuck you should find someone else! Oh, you already have!” Olli’s tone is oscillating between scathing and outright fury, his eyes narrowed and hard. 

Justin stares awkwardly at the floor. Every part of him is itching with a mixture of embarrassment at having to hear Olli defend himself like this and straight up, raging anger. 

“Well, at least if he’s only saying it to get back into my pants, he’s not making me feel bad about myself so he can sleep with me Harry, is he? I’ve got to go, I have to get to breakfast before we start game day prep.” 

And with that, Olli disconnects the call with a furious jab and then throws his phone across the room, as if to repudiate the call further, standing there, breathing hard, eyes shut, every muscle drawn tight. 

Justin doesn’t know what to do, doesn’t dare breathe. 

“Olli, are you ok?” he tries, slowly, softly. 

Olli takes a deep breath. “That fucking bastard!” 

He opens his eyes, looks towards Justin. His eyes are still dark with fury. 

“What did he do?” Justin asks, although he can guess most of it from what he heard. 

“He went out and picked up last night at Spin and brought whoever back to my place. I don’t care that he picked up, but bringing a random stranger back to my apartment? And he told him who he was staying with. I’m not out and he knows that! And finally he suggested we might have a threesome when I get back. He knows that I don’t do threesomes - we’ve been through this before back when we were in a relationship and I haven’t even agreed that we’re getting back together and he’s already suggesting threesomes? It’s like he knows nothing about me, cares nothing about what I might think.” 

He sweeps his hand through his hair, still angry. He takes a deep breath, goes to retrieve his phone, checking it carefully as he picks it up, putting it safely on the bed with a relieved sigh. Justin watches him in silence. Olli takes another breath. 

“He’s not here, there’s nothing I can do about it now, I have bigger things to think about than this.” It’s almost like a mantra the way he says it. Justin thinks he might have used it or something like it before. 

“I was amazed at how well you handled that call given how mad you were,” Justin says. “You stood up for yourself and let him know he’d overstepped. If he can’t understand that, that’s on him, not you.”

Olli relaxes a little, shoulders easing as he eases back down onto the bed next to Justin. There’s a moment of silence and it feels like the calm after the storm. 

“Does this mean I’m doomed to disappointment in my hope of a threesome with you and Harry?” 

Olli turns to glare at him and then takes note of the grin on Justin’s face. 

“Oh you fucker!” he replies but a laugh is surprised out of him. “Wow, that would be truly awful. You and he… so not happening!”

“Never happening,” agrees Justin. “Besides, since I’ve had absolutely no complaints about you in bed, had some awesome sex with you and think you’re downright hot, I might not live up to his exacting standards.” 

Olli glances at him sharply, but his face is softening to a pleased smile. “I might have known you’d pick up on that too. You didn’t need to say that.” 

Justin leans over and enfolds him in a hug. “Well, I’d have hoped you’d have known from my reaction but I wanted too anyway,” he says smugly dropping a kiss onto Olli’s lips. “He’s crazy if he thinks you’re bad in bed. So what happens next?”

Olli drops his head onto Justin’s shoulder and sighs. “Fuck, I don’t know. When I’m with you, I want to be with you. When I’m with him.. It’s different. There’s been so much between us, he’s done so much for me. I owe him a chance to explain and make things right. What we had was so great at times, it’s hard to give up on.”

Justin feels his brows furrow at that, and his shoulder blades tighten. How many more chances does Harry get, while he’s left waiting? 

Olli must feel the tension as he looks at him anxiously, pulling back. “I’m sorry. I know this isn’t fair on you. If you wanted to walk away, I’d understand.”

And that’s the thing. He can walk away to preserve his pride and move past it, fed up of being strung along. It might even be sensible; this was a ‘this season’ thing and he’d get over it. It wouldn’t be great, but he’d get over it. Or he can accept it, even if what is happening does hurt and hope that Olli comes to see Harry for what he is and not whatever he once was to Olli. The more he talks to Olli about Harry, the more he sees what a scumbag Harry is, but the more he thinks Olli is seeing it too. So there’s a chance… and he has to take that chance. Even if it could end up badly, a chance at something good is better than an assured unhappy outcome. 

“Well, so long as I’ve got the chance of a threesome with you and Harry, I’m going to stay right where I am,” he says. He tries for a light tone, but he’s not sure he manages it. 

Olli looks at him for a moment longer and then nods. “Thank you. I know this isn’t fair on you and I’ll try and keep Harry off your back.”

Justin shakes his head at that. “Stop getting between us. We’re both grown ups and anything he does or I do is on us. You don’t need to keep apologising for him or buffering us; you’re not responsible.” He moves back. “I really need to get moving, or we’ll be late for breakfast. I need to go shower and change - shall I see you down there?”

Olli glances at the time and then starts when he sees how late it has got. “Yeah, I need to hustle too.” 

Justin grabs his belongings and heads out into the corridor, intent on getting to his room and changing. It’s just his luck that Colesy is in the corridor, and his eyebrows shoot up when he sees Justin exiting Olli’s room, still in his sleep clothes and looking like he’s just got out of bed. 

“Schultzy!” he exclaims. “Did you not notice time passing? Too caught up with other things perhaps? Did you spend the night with Olli?”

Justin inwardly groans. Anything he says won’t sound innocent. But he has to try. 

“I stayed with him to make sure he was ok last night. Wouldn’t want our baby defenceman the worse the wear this morning because of how much he drank last night! And it worked, he’s fine this morning.” 

“I’m sure he was fine.” Colesy grins. 

Justin groans. “It really wasn’t like that. I was looking after him!”

“Yeah, yeah, mopping his fevered brow, I got it!” 

“Nothing’s going on!”

“Don’t worry, I won’t say a word,” Colesy reassures him. “Anyway, I need to get down to breakfast.”

Justin escapes to his room, still shaking his head. There’s no way he’s going to convince Colesy that nothing happened last night. 

0--0--0

He scrambles to get ready, but manages to get out just about on time. When he enters the lift, Hags and Horny are also in it so he nods a greeting to them. 

As he turns to watch the lift counting down the floors, Hags clears his throat. 

“Say Horny, I heard that our little Finnish prince unwisely had too much to drink last night. Things could have gone badly for him, but up steps his white knight, from British Columbia, to look after him and make sure he had no ill effects?” Hags is looking in the mirror of the lift to catch Justin’s reaction. 

Horny opens his eyes in mock surprise. “No, I had not heard that. I guess our Finnish prince will be more careful in future, particularly the night before the game? He’s lucky the Canadian knight was there for sure!”

Justin glares at them both in the reflection. Hags is openly laughing now. 

“Is he ok?” Hags finally says something directly to Justin. 

“He’s fine, I just kept forcing him to drink Gatorade. He didn’t actually have a lot to drink, he’s just not good with wine. He’ll be good to go today.” 

“Good,” says Hags. “I’d hate to see what Sully would have come up with to put his point over that we shouldn’t do that.” 

Justin shudders. Hags has a point. Fortunately, they won’t have to find out. 

0--0--0

In the event, Sully says nothing at morning skate. Well, not until they’re finishing up and he’s got them gathered in an end of session circle.

“Good work guys. Good session. I could almost believe that you’d all had a quiet, uneventful night last night which didn’t involve too much wine or cheesecake for some of you. But since it doesn’t seem to have had any ill effects, on this occasion, we’ll let it slide.” He looks at them, wry grin on his face, but there’s Sully steel underneath it. “Don’t do it again. You got away with it on this occasion. You’re all professionals and you should know better. And next time, bring me back a bit of the cheesecake.”

Justin sneaks a look around the group. Olli’s face is scarlet and he’s staring at his skates. The mongooses aren’t much better, but it’s also pretty apparent everyone on the team knows exactly what Sully is talking about, even if Olli’s state had been kept quiet at the table last night. Meanwhile Sid is trying to maintain his dignity and rise above the cheesecake comments, but since Geno is poking at him with his stick, it’s not terribly successful. 

“Ok, go get something to eat - not cheesecake - go rest up before the game this evening and I’ll see you for warm ups. We’re going to get home ice back tonight.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sits back, puts on flak jacket, picks up popcorn.


	55. Game 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Oh yes, hockey! Game three of series 1 of the Penguins-Rangers play-off round.

The room for warm ups feels energised, focussed - but there’s also confidence there. The goalies are in a quiet huddle, muttering to each other, Tishy smiling and laughing, Murrs intense. But watching the ebbs and flows of the room as Justin has the luxury of doing, a lot of the guys have gone out of their way to check in with Murrs, a statement of confidence and support. ‘We’re here with you, you’re not alone in this’, spelled out in taps, and chirps and casual, easy interactions. The mongooses have been particularly noticeable. He’s one of theirs and though they might be only a little more experienced than he is, still wide eyed themselves at the thought of playing a play-off game in MSG, they are not going to let Murrs stand unsupported. 

Neither are the defence although they hadn’t met specially this time to avow their commitment to the cause. Justin thinks Tanger had considered it, had looked at them all hard at the end of skate, and then relaxed, nodded, and that was it. Tanger knows they know what they need to do. The coaches know they know what they need to do. The guys who will be on ice - not Justin - will need to do it. That still hurts, that he won’t be out there to help. But there’s nothing he can do about it directly, so he does what he can by being there for his team. 

Going out onto ice at MSG is still something, even if it’s just for warm ups. They’ve all played in the rink before - even Murrs has backed up - but there’s an intensity there that’s only going to build and build as game time approaches. Justin finds himself looking around wide-eyed - until Dales jostles him in the back as he skates by. 

“Less staring, more skating!” Dales calls as he circles around, crossing over to get a feel for the ice, picking up speed to test his skates and his blades. Justin starts to pick up speed too, digging his blades in to push for more speed too, enjoying the feel of the ice, grabbing a puck to flick it around on his stick, before taking his place in the warm-up drill line. He is - as usual - immediately behind Olli so he pokes him in the back with his stick just to see him jerk around and glare. 

“Asshole,” he mutters, but there’s no heat to it, it’s just reflex. 

“Nervous?” Justin replies. 

“Only of how many times you’re going to poke me like that. Seriously.” Olli pretends to huff in indignation so of course Justin pokes him again. And then the long stick of Dumo is inching past Justin to also poke Olli, dropped to the ice instantly when Olli whirls around at the double poke. 

“What?!” Olli snaps. 

“Wasn’t me!” Justin tries for his best innocent face. Behind him, he feels rather than hears the quiet snicker of Dumo’s laughter. 

But they have to stop as they’re up next. Olli misses, but Justin scores, so he flashes a quick grin at Colesy, now making his approach as Justin spin away from the goal back along the boards. 

Warm-ups are starting to wind down, the first few guys leaving the ice. Justin doesn’t want to leave yet, takes a few laps more to soak up the atmosphere, goes to join Shears and Rusty leaning on the boards looking around them. 

“It’s a bit special,” Shears says as Justin joins them. “I thought Pittsburgh was intense but this place is buzzing already and we haven’t started playing yet.” 

“Be more fun when we quieten them,” Justin replies. 

Rusty nods agreement. “Murrs is going to surprise them. It’s like they think he’s just going to crack under the pressure!” 

“Not Murrs!” says Shears with disgust. 

“You’re all going to surprise them,” Justin says. “They don’t realise about this team. They will. They’ll see how good you guys are, all that crap that is talked about Sid and the core.” 

As he says it, he realises he absolutely believes it. They’re deep in enemy territory, they’ve got a rookie goalie in and a team which is, except for a few, untested and untried and yet, he has faith in them and belief in what they can do.

Rusty and Shears nod are grinning self-consciously at his words. 

“Well, I dunno man. If we do anything it’s because of what we’ve been shown. But we have to win this one,” Rusty says, looking around him once more. “Let’s go get ready to do that.”

0--0--0

By the time Justin has finished changing and made it to the press box with the other scratches - Sonny, Beau and Duper, the game has just started, but fortunately, he hasn’t missed much. But a Rangers break out ends in two shots on Murrs - who turns them aside easily, moving easily across the crease as the play swirls around his goal. 

There’s a relaxation in the box after Murrs has made his first save; like it’s purely symbolic, but knowing he’s got the first one safely under his belt gives them the ability to breath again. He hasn’t failed the first test. 

But the Pens have also found their skates and are battling and fighting for every puck. Shears has a shift where he’s just standing sending shot after shot from the left circle towards goal, catching up the rebounds as the Rangers block them back out to him and he hammers them straight back towards net until after three or four cycles, the Rangers manage to gain control and get it away from him. 

Duper laughs. “Well Shears is determined tonight.” 

He’s not the only Pen. The Pens are trying to stop Lundqvist get settled in net, firing shots in from all over the ice, battling to gain ice and get closer to the net. The Rangers are blocking and collapsing around the net before trying to counter with a fast break out when they win possession. 

Then Kunitz is tripped as he enters the zone, the referee’s arm shooting up immediately, and Marc Staal is sent to the box, shaking his head because he clearly is innocent as all hockey players are when penalised. 

The Pens’ power play takes to the ice, but although Phil gets a good look they aren’t able to score in the first part of the power play. But Shears, trying to lift a stick, catches Moore in the face, drawing blood. There’s a pause while the referee assesses Moore’s face and then he signals for a four minute power play to the Rangers. 

“Fuck,” mutters Justin and it’s echoed by the others in the box. 

“Keep it tight boys,” says Duper. “Get it killed.”

They don’t. The Rangers break through and eventually after some desperation plays around Murrs’ net, Kreider picks up a rebound from Geno’s skates and wallops it in. The crowd go wild the noise back to pre-face-off levels as they celebrate. The Penguins skate back to the bench slowly. But Toccs is talking urgently to Sully and they’re calling over the referees. 

“Are we challenging?” Beau asks. “For what? I didn’t see anything on the goal.” 

They soon find out as the referees announce that the Penguins are challenging for offsides. 

“Oooh,” exhales Duper. “Andy must have seen something on the zone entry.” 

They watch the play on the jumbotron with increasing excitement. 

“Fuck, that’s close, but it could be called back. It does looks offside?” Duper says. 

The referee skates out to centre ice and the arena stills and quietens. Justin finds himself holding his breath. 

“After review, the play was offside. There was no goal,” the referee announces solemnly. He’s hardly half way through before the crowd is booing and jeering, seeing which way this is going. It’s just as loud as the cheers were. 

Duper slams back in his seat. “Thank fuck for that. Now kill this thing properly boys!”

Justin looks towards the Pens’ bench. Sully is looking satisfied, and the penalty killers, now heading out onto the ice for the first time, have determination writ all over them. 

“They’re going to do it or die trying,” Justin replies, watching them take up position. “They know that was an escape. Look at Murrs!” 

For all his apparent calmness, there’s a fierce intensity to Murrs’ movements. One puck has gone by him - he looks focussed on not letting anything else go by. 

Duper snorts. “You wouldn’t think this was his first play-off. Look at him, it’s hardly affecting him. Anyone who predicted he would crumble is wrong. That guy has ice in his veins.” 

But the puck is dropping now and Justin’s leaning forward to watch the play again caught in the agony of being so involved in what is happening down below and so unable to do anything to help it. 

The scare has energised the team, and they aggressively kill the penalty, getting their own short-handed attempts, Cullen and Hags both taking the opportunity to go in hard and fast, only to be stymied by Lundqvist. They end the penalty kill with more shots on goal than the Rangers attempted. 

“Good job, boys,” says Duper fiercely. “Keep doing that!”

The Penguins keep pushing now, bit between their ...beak? It doesn’t really work for a metaphor, Justin thinks and then they launch another attack on goal and he stops wondering and keeps watching. 

 

They’re almost up to the end of the first period when all the players on the ice are suddenly making a bee-line to a scrum in front of the Pens’ bench. Kuni is in the middle of it, Tanger sprinting over to assist. Justin checks anxiously for Olli, but he’s just grabbed someone’s jersey and is hanging on to it in the traditional fashion of a player who wants to look involved but doesn’t want to be involved. 

Duper’s laughing. “Yeah, like Kuni’s going to take any of that shit from you, Hayes!” 

“What happened?” Justin asks. He hadn’t noticed it until it was way too late to know what had started it. 

“Same old, same old. Kuni hit Hayes, he took exception, so cross-checked Kuni and it escalated from there, neither of them backing down.”

Kuni and Tanger are in the box, Tanger re-arranging his hair before pulling his helmet back on, but there are two Rangers in the box too so it’s still all even out on the ice. 

The Rangers push hard in the final minute of the period, but Murrs makes some desperate saves and Sid eventually clears the puck up the boards, letting the Pens rearrange themselves and reset their defence. 

There’s another little huddle between all the players at the end of the period when Nash takes a run at Rusty but Cully gets his face into it. Nash backs down when he sees it’s Cully so it calms into jersey hugging until the lineys can get into it and get them split apart, Cully still with his battle grin on. 

“That man is worth his weight in gold,” Duper says, standing up and stretching. “He’s so respected, no-one really wants to go against him.” 

“Hasn’t he mentored half the league by now?” Justin asks. 

“I’ll let you say that to him,” Duper replies dryly as he leads the way out of the box and down to the locker room. “I wouldn’t dare.”

0--0--0

The locker room is the usual strange intermission mix of chaos and order. Duper follows Justin over to the defence stalls so he can chirp at Tanger for his penalty but Justin is content to grab his own stall so he can tuck himself out of the way of guys moving around getting what they need in the intermission. 

“How were we looking, Schultzy?” Colesy asks. 

Justin starts to tell them what he’d seen, remembering to praise the penalty kill; it had been pretty good and Colesy does a lot of time on it. 

“What’s it like out there?” he asks once he’s done. 

“About what you’d expect,” says Revs. “Really intense and they’re being assholes. Hitting a lot which means we’ve got the puck but yeah, hitting a lot. But it feels like we’re well in it.” 

“Forecheck has been good,” says Justin. 

Then Sully’s bustling into the room, drawing their attention as he runs through what’s working and what he wants them to change up for the next period. But there are no big changes; it seems like he’s happy with how things are working generally. 

Once he’s finished, they know they don’t have long until the period re-starts so the players start gathering up and pulling on discarded equipment, taking final mouthfuls of liquid - be it Gatorade or coffee. 

Justin takes the chance to go over to Murrs. 

“Looking good out there, Murrs!”

Murrs gives him a pleased, shy smile. “Just trying to stay focussed. I know the guys warned us all, but it is so loud out there.”

“You’ll quieten them, bud.”

“I’ll do my best. Maybe they’ll stop trying to intimidate me and running the crease.” He rolls his eyes at that, this 20-something kid who should be phased by the venue and the atmosphere, but clearly isn’t. 

“Kreider will never stop running the crease. Just keep your head up, ok?” 

Murrs nods and then reaches down to tighten his pads as the guys start to stand up and leave the room. 

Justin heads out to the hall the cheer them back onto the ice. The team are obviously fired up for the second and looking at them, he has no doubt they can do this. 

0--0--0

Buoyed by that thought he settles back into the box along with his team mates. Less than a minute into play, Kreider boards Horny, giving the Pens another power play. Justin rolls his eyes; it wasn’t Murrs he should have warned to watch out. But Horny recovers quickly and takes his accustomed place on the ice for the power play. 

It doesn’t go how they want - Nash gets a solo breakaway that Tanger cannot cut off and wrists the puck high past Murrs, glove side. The fans erupt again and this time, there’s nothing the Pens can do to get it called back. The Rangers have taken the lead; a short-handed goal to rub salt in the wound. 

“Get it back, quick,” exhorts Beau, but they can’t. The Pens fight hard throughout the power play, but can’t get it past Lundqvist and the power play ends with the Ranger the only scorers. 

Almost immediately, there’s a fracas around Murrs’ net. Rev has driven Miller into the net, but it’s Dales throwing Brassard bodily to the ground as he looms over a kneeling Murrs that earns the referee’s displeasure and Pens are back on the penalty kill. 

“We can’t do stuff like that.” Duper says. “They’ll call those more in the Rangers barn; we need to remember that.”

Justin nods; he doesn’t know for sure but it sounds reasonable and he’s not going to doubt Duper’s play-off experience. 

The Pens manage to kill it though and then start to pressure the Rangers, getting some good zone time. That is until Geno trips Brassard. Duper groans when he sees the referee’s arm up 

“That was soft,” says Beau. 

“Yeah, but we still have to kill it regardless,” says Justin, eyes not leaving the ice as the penalty kill starts. The penalty kill is playing confidently though, pushing the Rangers power play, not letting them settle too much, Bones finally managing to kill 30 seconds holding the puck in the Rangers end pretty much single-handedly while the rest of the guys on ice change behind him. 

When the kill is officially ended, and the puck safely out of the Pens’ end, Justin settles back into his seat, forcing himself to bleed off the tension that’s been accumulating as he watches. It’s more tiring watching it up in the box than it is actually playing the game. 

The Pens are starting to dominate, but can’t get the puck to the net enough; meanwhile the Rangers are fast and dangerous on the breakaway and still have the lead. The Pens really need to get that goal back. 

They’re almost at the end of the period when Hags, starting to accelerate hard around the net trips and gets hooked down by Marc Staal’s stick. The whistle blares as the ref calls a penalty but Justin watches Zuccarello bend over and shove at Hags as he’s collecting and organising himself on the ice. Even from up here, Justin can see Hags’ face tighten as he gets up from the ice, lips set in a hard line, and he makes sure to skate by Zuccarello, muttering something, as he heads for the bench. 

Justin looks to Duper. 

“They were best friends on the Rangers; Hags, Brassard and Zuccarello,” Duper explains, shaking his head. “I guess they’re not so friendly right now.” 

Justin tries to imagine how it would be to play Ebs in this kind of intense cauldron, emotions boiling over and actions on the ice taking on a massive importance. He just can’t; when you’re trying so hard for your team to win and your best friends are standing in the way of that goal. His mind baulks when he tries to see what it would be like.

His attention is drawn back by the noise of the crowd, showing the play is about to restart again, so he gathers his wandering focus again, watching the Pens top unit set up. 

The Pens win the face-off, and start zipping the puck around the ice. Then Phil throws a hard pass across the ice to where Sid is lurking by the goal post, unremarked but never unremarkable and that’s it - Sid has equalised it, squeezing the puck past Henrik and raising his stick in celebration. There’s less than a minute of the period left and it’s soul-destroying timing. 

As the buzzer goes for the end of the period, Justin finds himself grinning. It’s come down to a one-period game, but they’ve got that needed, necessary but elusive game-tying goal. 

0--0--0

It’s weird; for all that’s happened in the second, they’re actually in the same position they were at the end of the first. All tied up, all to play for. The room feels the same - if anything, slightly more positive. 

Colesy sums it up in his own style. 

“We’re riding their punches and taking what they’re hitting us with,” he says, poking at a bruise that’s starting to appear just above his hip. “Literally at times. Nash is a heavy fucker. But they’re getting chances, but no traction. Just need to keep shutting them down and pressing on them and Murrs needs to keep doing his magic. Next goal is huge, baby!” 

Justin rolls his eyes at that. Colesy has a point, but the next goal is always huge. It’s one of the unwritten rules of hockey, like pucks are always sent in deep and you always go hard to the net. 

Olli snorts. “Practicing to be a hockey analyst?” he says. 

“I’d be so good!” exclaims Colesy. “I don’t need to practice, I’m a natural.”

“You can certainly talk as much crap as Milbury or Roenick,” says Tanger. 

“Exactly! That’s why I’d be perfect for it.” 

Tanger just shakes his head but he’s laughing and so is everyone else at Colesy’s own pride in his ability to talk crap.

“Colesy, did I hear you say next goal would be huge?” Geno asks from across the room. “If you did, you’re fined for being obvious!”

“Nope, didn’t say that at all,” Colesy says, shaking his head in denial with his ‘I did not do that thing you are penalising me for’ face on. “You must have misheard when I said… ‘the Rangers tops are blue’. Yes, that’s what I said. Definitely, just remarking on how blue the Rangers jerseys are. And they are very blue. But easy to mis-hear in this locker room, it’s very noisy in here.” He waves his arms around dismissively. “You know I wouldn’t say something as obvious as that, G!”

It’s quietened a lot as the room listens in. Geno looks at him and the rest of the D all of whom are grinning in amusement as they listen to Colesy try to wriggle out the fine. Rev is looking at them with bemusement as he’s just returned from the washroom and had missed most of it. 

“I’ll let you off this one time,” Geno growls, turning back to talk to Kuni. 

Colesy collapses back in his stall, limp with relief. “Phew, that was close.”

He gets up and moves over to the coffee machine. Justin shakes his head at the unspoken offer as Colesy waves the cups at him, but Olli, Dumo and Tanger take up his offer so he busies himself making up the four cups, still talking over his shoulder at them. 

“It was so much safer when Geno was on IR and we didn’t need to worry about his random finings for something he overhead us saying. Didn’t have to be constantly looking over your shoulder to check where he was in the room and if you can actually say anything without fear of him overhearing.” He pauses a moment, takes in the way the D are looking at him and beyond him, mouths open and closes his eyes with consternation. “Crap, he’s behind me isn’t he?”

Olli nods his head nervously, eyes never leaving Geno’s face and Colesy’s face scrunches up before resolving into the most fake smile Justin has ever seen on him as he turns round to find Geno grinning behind him. 

“Hey there G, didn’t see you there big boy! Can I get you a coffee?”

“That’ll be a double fine for not respecting the system,” Geno replies, with what Justin can only describe as a smug, evil grin. “Thanks”. He reaches down and swipes away one of the cups Colesy has just finished preparing and walks off to put the fine on the board.

“Well that could have gone better,” Colesy says ruefully, starting to remake the cup. “You could have told me!”

“How?” asks Tanger. “He was right there!” 

“Just can’t get supportive team mates these days,” Colesy grumbles, handing over the coffee cups. 

0--0--0

Whether it’s the coffee or the knowledge that this is the third period and they need to win, the Pens are working the neutral zone hard, winning the battles and not letting the Rangers get any pucks through it, snagging and snaring them and firing them straight back into the offensive zone with the forwards chasing in pursuit. 

Early in the period, Sheary knocks down the puck in the neutral zone and rockets up the wing alone, catching the Rangers defence flat-footed and leaves them behind in a spray of crystals. But Lundqvist is ready and waiting and makes the save to a groan from the box around Justin. 

It’s shortly after when the Pens get a neutral zone face-off due to a Rangers handpass, which Cully wins and plays back to the D. Colesy gets it and throws it up ice to Tommy, breaking out, who flicks it into Cully’s path as he’s gaining speed through the neutral zone. He’s skating it in when the Rangers D pair collide with each other and Cully glides around them and fakes Lundqvist before firing it five hole and into the back of the net. 

“Sneaky beauty!” exclaims Duper, grinning and punching the air. Sonny has managed to spill his water all over himself, having been taking a drink as Cully made the play and in his excitement had up-ended the bottle. They can feel the force of Cully’s grin all the way up in the box, feel the relief from the other Pens.. Justin looks back towards Colesy who has the biggest grin on his face after earning his first assist of the playoffs too. It’s a much more positive and hopeful group in the box. 

By comparison, down on the ice, Henrik is disconsolately picking himself up from the ice and the Rangers are trying to pull themselves back to focus on the game now that the terrain has altered so much. 

The Rangers are chasing the game now, the Pens trying to stifle their offence while still feeding their own forwards. As the period plays on, the Pens precariously hanging onto their lead and all kinds of things happening on the ice, they realise it’s going to take a murder on the ice to get another penalty. The referees are not going to call anything unless they absolutely have to. 

But the Pens are skating well and working hard, tying up the Rangers and defending Murrs well and the precious minutes are ticking down. Shears has been moved to Sid’s line, giving it a bit more speed and he’s still continuing to hammer pucks towards the net at every opportunity. 

They’re well into the final ten minutes, the stress in the box becoming unbearable, when Rusty breaks in on goal, tries to jink around Lundqvist but fails, bowling him over and sending Henrik’s stick flying. The Rangers clear the puck, but Phil intercepts a pass, charging in on the goal alone. Somehow Yandle blocks the shot and even though the rebound comes back at him, Lundqvist, reunited with stick, is able to deflect the next shot across the goal. The Penguins are swarming though, and the Rangers eventually manage a desperation clear, sending it down for an icing which at least lets the Rangers reset. 

The players in the box settle down again from where they had half come out of their seats as Phil had skated in alone, Justin with an embarrassed laugh. 

“We need another goal,” he says. “It wouldn’t be nearly so stressful on a two goal lead.”

“It’s the worst lead in hockey,” replies Duper absently. 

“I don’t care, I’d be happier with a two goal lead with five minutes left!”

Duper takes a mouthful of water. “He’s not having a good playoffs,” he says, indicating Lundqvist who has just been bowled over by a Ranger trying to defend Cully. Both Stalberg and Lundqvist are complaining to the referee about something, but to the group of Pens, Cully didn’t trip Stalberg, he just lost an edge. Beau shakes his head. 

“They have to find something to complain about,” he says. 

With less than two minutes to go, the Rangers manage to get Lundqvist off the ice. The Pens raise their game once more, competing valianty for every puck. Rusty nearly breaks it free for a shot on the empty net, but it’s corralled by Miller and returned to the Pens end where Murrs fends off yet another shot by Brassard. 

The Pens are harassing all the time, trying to break the puck free for the empty net shot. But it’s Tanger who gets the puck free on the boards and somehow finds the space to flip it over a Rangers player sitting deep to find the net - it’s a beautiful shot and with twelve seconds left, it’s ended the game for the Rangers. 

Justin’s on his feet even as the puck flies over the defenceman and is cheering as it hits the back of the net, hugging Sonny in his exuberance. The Pens have taken the lead in the series and have home ice advantage back!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's really weird watching these games that are getting older - seeing Brassard playing for the Rangers (and how good he was for them) gives me hope for next year!


	56. A relaxing post-win evening

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Pens have taken the third game, winning on the Rangers' home ice and they get to enjoy their victory.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> OK, so there's smut ahead if you're not minded to read it. I'd skip from where they go to Olli's room until the end.

The locker room is loud and vibrant. Dumo already has Hall and Oates blasting by the time Justin makes it down there with the other scratches. Guys are in the process of stripping down, piling their pads and jerseys in the equipment trolleys. There are jokes and laughter and chirps flowing freely around the room. Justin enjoys the warmth of it but it leaves an ache too; he hasn’t been truly part of it as he wasn’t on the bench or the ice. He’s missed the in-game jokes and the events the room is buzzing with now. He feels like he’s been on the outside of the glass and is desperate to get in, taking in everything being said. 

There’s one other thing he can do; he picks his way over to Murrs, sat back in his stall, still in his pads, eyes wide. Murrs looks more rattled now than he did before the game started. 

“Great game Murrs, you did a good job out there,” Justin says warmly. It feels odd not stick tapping, but his hands are empty. 

Murrs shakes his head. “I hardly had anything to do,” he says. “The defence were just cocooning me all night.”

“And you made the saves when you needed to,” Justin replies. “Well done on your first playoff win!” 

“He’s right,” says Sid from behind Justin. “Don’t sell yourself short, Murrs; that was a great performance out there. That place was a cauldron and you shut them down. You were there when we needed you to be. Good job man!”

Murrs’ stares at his feet, Adam's apple bobbing in his throat as he swallows, cheeks starting to glow pinkly. 

“I really just did my job,” he insists. 

“Yeah, but you did it well,” Sid comes right back at him with a smile. “You did a good job out there, you kept your head and played so calm in a situation you’ve not experienced. You know goalies get all the crap when we lose, even if you don’t deserve it. Take the praise when we win. We couldn’t have done it without you doing that in net.” 

Hearing that, Murrs looks up at him, and his eyes are wide and vulnerable. “Thanks,” he mutters. “I do appreciate that. It doesn’t feel like I did much, honestly, you guys did such a good job, I just had to mop up what got through, but if I have you saying that to me, then I guess I did do ok.”

“You did a good job,” repeats Sid patiently. He’s grinning brightly though. “We’ll keep telling you that until you believe it because, well, goalies!” He shakes his head at that and returns to his own stall with another grin.

Murrs watches him for a moment cross the room and then shakes himself, bending down to start taking off his pads. Justin realises he’s just standing like a loon, watching this, so he retreats back to his own stall also, where there are fewer feelings to navigate. 

Sully is suddenly there in the room with them and it quietens just from his sheer presence. 

“Good job out there tonight, really good job,” he says. “You were hard to play against and took it to them all night. Well deserved win, and we’ve got home ice back. Got to stand on their throats in the next one, keep taking it to them. Optional skate tomorrow at 11 with video and special teams meets afterwards. Otherwise, do your own conditioning, speak to the trainers about any niggles and don’t ignore them if the trainers can help and that’s all I got. Have a good night. Tishy?” 

Tishy is standing in his stall, warrior helmet in hand, face pinking as the room focuses on him. 

“Sid, Cully, you were great today,” he says, talking as the room noise drops. “Defence - you kept the nasty Rangers from Murrs’ net - but for his first playoff win, it has to be Murrs for the helmet!”

There’s a roar of agreement from the room. The mongooses are chanting Murrs’ name raucously from their corner, and Tishy hands him the helmet with a hug. 

“If I win this with as little as I had to do in that game…” Murrs says to the room. “But you guys were awesome tonight. You couldn’t have done more for me. So yeah… thanks.”

He puts the helmet on briefly to another roar from the room, but now guys are heading for the showers and the cool down bikes. Jen’s in, rounding up the media victims, getting an ETA on when they’ll be ready. 

“You were good out there tonight,” Justin says to Olli. Olli startles; he’d been lost in thought when Justin had settled in the stall and hadn’t paid much attention to the helmet ceremony, cheering when prompted by the rest of the team. 

“It was good out there,” he replies. “Good game all around. Fun. Wish you could have been out there with us.” 

So does Justin, but he’s not going to admit to what he was thinking about earlier. Not now, when Olli looks contented and the team has just won. He doesn’t want to risk shattering that mood. 

“Yeah, well, the forwards seem to think they need all twelve so there isn’t really space for me,” Schultz says, with faux sadness. 

“Crazy,” agrees Olli with a smile. “If only they weren’t so lazy, they could be on ice as long as we are and then we wouldn’t need so many and you could play too.”

“That would work,” agrees Justin. 

“I need to go cool down properly and not just sit here.” Olli sighs. “Wait for me?” 

“Sure bud,” Justin agrees easily. “I’ll even wait while you do your hair. That’s true dedication!” 

“Perfection takes time!” Olli protests as he slips away. 

Justin grins to himself, making himself comfortable in his stall to wait. 

0–0–0

It seems no-one wants to go out and celebrate after the game. Even though they’re in New York and they just won a playoff game the mood of the team is content and happy to go back to the hotel. As usual, they have the option of a catered buffet for flexibility and it seems most of the team are happy to head there for their post game meal and just chill in post game victory glow. There are exceptions - Hags has arranged to go out with some of his former teammates. 

“Give Zuccarello shit for going after you like that during the game!” shouts Horny as they leave the locker room to head to the bus, Hags peeling off from the group to where Zuccarello and Brassard are waiting. “No fucking need for that.” 

Hags shakes his head dismissively at Horny as he walks away, but Horny’s stopped to watch Zuccarello, looking for his reaction to Horny’s words and when he ducks his head uncomfortably away, Horny grins in satisfaction, point made.

“What are we waiting for?” He asks innocently as he starts walking towards the bus again. “Are we eating tonight or what?” The rest of the team; held up while he blocked the doorway to shout passively at Zuccarello starts to move again, with only a little grumbling. 

Olli looks at Justin, brows raised but they fall obediantly into the crowd waiting to board behind Horny. 

“Swedes,” mutters Olli. 

“Nah, just Horny,” replies Justin. 

0--0--0

Justin’s not first down to dinner; he takes the time to change out of his suit, and he hasn’t played a game so he’s not desperate to eat.. Perhaps not surprisingly, the mongooses look like they’ve been down longest, looking at the remains of their plates but a good proportion of the team are already down, picking over the buffet options. 

Olli is already there, digging into some kind of protein-heavy stir fry, and listening to Colesy talk, but he flashes a quick grin at Justin as he slides onto a seat next to Olli, pushing his sandwiches onto the table in front of him. 

“Is that all you’re having?” asks Colesy, looking at the plate disapprovingly. 

“Not that hungry,” Justin responds. “I haven’t just played a hockey match. The food in the box is pretty good too. Better than the energy bars.”

Colesy huffs disapprovingly, although whether it’s to do with the energy bars, the press box or eating in the press box, Justin wouldn’t like to guess. But Colesy continues to talk about the game just passed so Justin’s content to just listen and mostly let him carry the conversation, occasionally chipping in with observations he’d made from the box. Eventually though he finishes his pasta, pushing his chair back to stretch. 

“I’m just going to head to bed,” he says. “Sorry to duck out on you like this.”

Olli grins. “It’s not your fault you’re old and need your sleep.”

Colesy rolls his eyes. “Fuck off Olli, just because you’re a babe yet.” He salutes them both and rises from the table, carrying his dishes over to the station. 

“I feel like I’m too wound up still to sleep right away,” Olli says. “The mongooses were organising a gaming tournament earlier in the lounge later, but I think that would just hype me up more. Want to come watch a movie in my room? You could bring your sleep stuff and we could have a sleepover!”

His eyes are blue and sparkling with enthusiasm, and just like always, Justin can’t say no to that. Besides, why would he want to? It sounds pretty cool. 

“Sure,” he says. “We could get dessert from here and take it with us?” 

“Good idea,” Olli says promptly. “What do you want? You go get your stuff and I’ll bring up dessert.”

Justin glances over at the display. “Get me some of those green and yellow things. They look edible at least.”

“Cool. See you upstairs!”

0--0--0

By the time Justin makes it to Olli’s room, Olli has already connected his laptop to the TV and is scrolling through options. 

“What about Ant-Man? I didn’t see it when it came out?” He looks at Justin for his response. 

Justin shrugs. “I haven’t seen it either so yeah, go for it.” 

Olli starts it running, then settles back onto the bed, pillows piled behind him. He places an open bottle of water onto the unit next to him, then pats the bed encouragingly with an eyebrow raised at Justin. Justin takes the hint, sliding onto the bed alongside him, propping himself up on the headboard with the rest of the pillows. 

The movie hasn’t long started when he realises that Olli is listing sideway, leaning onto his arm, head tilted into him. It seems very easy to wrap that arm around Olli’s shoulders, tucking him more firmly into his side and he feels Olli settle, head against his chest. 

“You ok?” he checks in. 

“Yeah, you’re very comfortable,” Olli replies. “You don’t mind? You were just there.” He’s mumbling into Justin’s shirt, patting his chest with his free hand.

“No, not at all. Feels good,” confirms Justin. “Just don’t drool on my shirt.” He rubs his hand soothingly across Olli’s head - and then rolls his eyes and wipes the sticky hair gel off surreptitiously on the pillow behind Olli, before returning his hand to Olli’s waist. 

They get deeper into the movie and as time goes on, Justin becomes more aware that Olli’s absently stroking Justin’s leg with the hand he has resting on it. Which is nice; but it’s also pretty distracting and it feels like more and more of Justin’s attention is being dragged down to the movement of that hand. It also doesn’t help that he can feel how close Olli’s head is to his nipple, the feel of Olli breathing against his side, his skin starting to become super sensitive to it, the feelings going straight to Justin’s groin where his dick is starting to take an interest. 

He shuffles a little, trying to reposition Olli to where he might be less sensitive, move his hand away from where his skin is tingling and fizzing under Olli’s touch. 

It works - a little. Well, it helped with Olli’s caresses but somehow he ended up with Olli’s head pressed just below his nipple and that… that feels good. Too good really given all they’re meant to be doing is watching a movie. Not that he has any idea what’s happening in it right now, his entire universe is where Olli is touching him right now. But he tries to shift a bit more, this time to move Olli’s head to somewhere bearable. 

“You ok?” asks Olli. 

“Yep!” he manages to reply but his voice sounds high and strangled, forced out. The sound of it causes Olli to twist around and up to look at him, hand skimming across his groin for balance and that causes a yelp to escape at the sudden sensation across his dick. 

“Ohhh,” breathes Olli taking in how he looks as he skins his hand across Justin’s groin, this time deliberately. At least the bastard is grinning at Justin’s predicament. The grin stops the apology that has been about to fall out of him, for messing up a friendly evening with his dick. 

“I didn’t think Ant-Man was that hot personally,” he’s smiling. 

“He’s not,” Justin answers curtly. “I’m sorry just let me…” He gestures towards the bathroom, tries to slide towards it but Olli transfers his weight, holding him in place. 

“Don’t go on my account,” Olli replies and his eyes are sparkling ultramarine and his voice is husky. He turns his head some more and licks at Justin’s nipple through his shirt, sending a shock of pleasure through Justin. Somehow he manages not to jerk forward for more and he has no idea how he manages that. Olli glances up at him to check how that has been received before turning his attention back to the now hard nipple, licking and sucking it through the material. 

Justin groans, throwing his head back, feeling himself going boneless, settling into the bed more. 

“I thought I said not to drool on my shirt,” he manages to say although his voice is deep and throaty and he has to clear his throat to force the words out. 

“Hmmm, I can take if off if you’d prefer?” Olli says, hands wandering everywhere and Justin quickly agrees because he may not know what is going on but he does know that this seems to be happening and he’s not about to object to it. Not when his dick is hard and Olli’s lying half on top of him, unbuttoning his shirt so that Justin can take it off. Even as Justin’s pulling his arms out of the sleeves, Olli’s already back circling Justin’s nipple with his tongue, hands running over Justin’s torso, now teasing a nipple, now running over his ribs. 

But Justin wants more of Olli, so he tugs his head up until he can give him a sloppy kiss, Olli’s mouth opening easily and willingly, lips wet and red and luscious. Olli’s hands are tugging at his pants even as they kiss, sliding them down over Justin’s hips and suddenly he’s mostly naked with a speed which is kind of shocking and kind of a relief as his dick springs free. Justin groans through the kiss, enjoying the clash of tongues and the Olli’s sliding away from him again, kissing around his jaw to lick and suck at his earlobe, sending frissons of pleasure up and down his spine. 

‘I’m gonna make this good for you,” he murmurs. “Lick!” 

A hand appears in front of Justin’s face, so he does as he’s told and even that feels good, sucking on Olli’s fingers, just the feel of something in his mouth. But the hand is gone again, replaced by Olli’s mouth. 

It’s almost too much, given how incredibly worked up Olli has got him, when he feels Olli’s hand on his dick. Too much and what he needs and wants so much, as Olli encircles his dick in a hot, wet grasp, teasing his slit with his thumb which leaves Justin gasping as the heat from his hand spreads upwards. Olli finds a rhythm which has Justin helpless as each stroke sends more and more pleasure burning through him. 

He wants to stay in this moment forever, on the brink of coming and then Olli tweaks at his nipple and it topples him, sending him over in a burst of feeling and pleasure and he’s coming so hard all over Olli’s hand. 

He’s lying in a puddle of blissful aftermath, when he becomes aware of Olli leaning over him, jerking off his own hard dick. Justin drags him down for another hard kiss, tilting his leg to give him something to rub against if he wants it, but that’s as much as he can do to help until his co-ordination returns. 

“So gorgeous,” Justin murmurs. “C’mon babe.” 

Olli stiffens then slumps as he comes, splattering across Justin’s stomach as well. 

For a moment, everything in the world is perfect and could not be better.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I did have an entirely different end to this chapter in mind. It's still going to happen, but likely not as an ending now. All because Olli decided to take things in hand himself!


	57. Flower would be so proud...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Between games in New York

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> have something to read while we're waiting for free agency to start =0

It’s not too long before the perfect bubble bursts however, even with Olli warm and languid lying next to him, stroking his abdomen gently. He tries to focus on that and not the sticky mess but the sticky mess needs dealing with and since Olli played today and also did most of the work, Justin’s going to have to be the bigger guy and deal with clean up. But maybe it can wait just a few more minutes?

Eventually it does become too uncomfortable to keep ignoring, so he drops a kiss onto Olli’s head. 

“Be right back,” he says as he slides out of Olli’s arms and staggers to the bathroom with all the gracefulness of a newborn calf. 

He sluices himself down quickly and runs through his bedtime routine, then grabs a towel and wet warm washcloth for Olli. 

Olli’s pretty much lying where Justin left him so Justin kneels back next to him, giving him a quick kiss. 

“Just going to make you feel more comfortable,” he murmurs, starting to wipe Olli down. 

“Not sure you can do that, actually.” Olli’s reply is sleepy. “I feel like I’m at max comfort right now.”

“Don’t fall asleep, you haven’t brushed your teeth.”

“Yes, mom.” Olli pouts at him but shuffles into a position where he seems less likely to sleep, watching Justin through half-open eyes. “That was… ok wasn’t it? I just kind of jumped you.”

“Babe, that was way better than ok,” Justin grins. “That was amazing. Besides, I’m not sure you jumped me since I was the one who was turned on just from being around you.”

Olli smiles at that. Justin takes the opportunity to slide onto the bed beside him after tossing the towels into the bathroom, Olli sliding an arm around him as he settles. 

“You were just there and looking so hot that I just wanted to do that for you.” 

“I’m not sure you would have been up for a lot more after the game. We probably should have thought about that.” Justin feels contrite; he should have remembered that Olli was in post game recovery. 

Olli waves it off. “I said I needed to wind down after the game! I’ll sleep now though.” He settles back on the bed like he has every intention of sleeping now. 

Justin pokes at him. “Don’t get too comfortable. You need to get ready for bed.”

With a grumble, Olli rolls off the bed, heading for the bathroom. “If I go, will you stop nagging?” 

Justin laughs, settles back. Now he has the time to think, what just happened might not have been the wisest thing. There’s too much still unresolved, but it had just been so good to be close to Olli. And he’d been so horny. He’d gone months in Edmonton without doing much and hadn’t really missed it, beset by too many other worries. But his desire has been re-awakened in Pittsburgh and orgasms had become part of his life again, but with the break between Olli and him, they’d been abruptly cut off and he missed them. 

But doing it now might not have been the wisest thing. He resolves not to regret it, not to beat himself up over it. For all he knows that could be the last time they’re together. He feels his stomach knot uncomfortably at that, thought, tries to push the bad feeling away, not let it cloud his evening. He should still be enjoying afterglow, not worrying about the future.

Fortunately, he’s interrupted in his thoughts by Olli’s return from the bathroom. They end up curled up together, watching the movie again to catch up on what they missed. 

“You ok?” Olli asks. 

“I don’t want you to chose Harry over me,” is what Justin doesn’t say, tucking it deep into his heart. “I want to stay like this, with you,” he buries deep within himself too, refusing to let it come to the surface in case he blurts it out. 

“I’m good,” is what he actually does allow himself to stay. 

0–0–0

He manages to get back to his room unseen the next morning which is a blessing. He worries about what the team knows by now, one thing on top of another. But the fates are kind so he is able to walk into breakfast conspicuously alone, joining Colesy and Dales and Fehrsie. 

Then they’re into the day and it’s bus to the practice facility. Justin takes optional skate - he has to, he has to keep skating as much as he can to keep his conditioning up and to keep working on what the coaches tell him to. It’s lightly attended. Most of the core don’t, but Tanger’s there, skating off the ridiculous minutes he had skated the night before, stretching out the same tired muscles. Justin feels tired just looking at him. 

Then gym and video. Review of the last game is mostly positive because it had gone so well, but they’re still probing the Rangers’ play, trying to find more weaknesses to exploit, trying to find the weaknesses in their own and correct them. 

It’s weird to Justin to spend so much time looking at another team. In the regular season, they don’t have time for that. Now he’s starting to feel like he knows the Rangers plays almost as well as he knows their own. 

It’s not too heavy a day though; after a while too much video means you stop being able to take it in, so although they mix it up with special teams and defence and full team sessions, each session of itself is relatively short. 

All in all, it’s been a full day but a satisfying one by the time they finish and they’re on the bus returning them to the hotel. 

“Any plans for tonight?” Bones asks, generally. 

“Bed by 7:30, no drinking for Olli,” replies Geno. There’s a howl of outrage at that; more to do with the timing of the curfew than Olli’s restrictions from what Justin can hear. Olli’s face is scarlet though, something Justin takes great delight in telling him. But Geno can’t keep a straight face and although he tries to insist the 7:30 curfew is for real, he’s quickly overruled. But with another huge game looming, there’s a reluctance to go out again, so it seems the in-hotel options will be the preferred choice of most of the team. 

They’re wending their way through the lobby, discussing catered versus restaurant options within the hotel when Olli stops dead in front of him, so fast that Justin almost slams into his back. 

“Olli! I need to talk to you. I’m so sorry, baby!”

The voice is loud and strident and Justin’s heart splinters when he hears it. Olli’s back has gone rigid under the Justin’s hand, put out for balance when Olli had stopped abruptly. 

“I’m so sorry, I should never have said those things to you!”

Justin peers around Olli and sure enough it’s Harry standing there, hands outstretched beseechingly, big soulful eyes pleading with Olli. 

Justin wants to punch him, finds his fists balling. 

“What things did you say to Olli?” 

Justin starts as Sid almost growls that, voice pitched low and intense and sounding furious. 

“What did you say that was so bad it would have you fly up here to plead your case?” Sid continues. 

Olli starts at that, face white. “We’re not talking about this here, in front of everyone, in public. It’s between you and me only. Come here.” He waves Harry over to a set of sofas, over to one side of the lobby, set back and private.

The Penguins, gathered in a loose group in the lobby, watch them sit down. 

“We can’t let him fuck over Olli again,” Horny says forcefully. He looks to Sid. “Not ever, but especially not now in the playoffs.”

“What would you have me do? Walk over and ban Olli from seeing him?” Sid asks bitterly. 

“Yes!” exclaims Tanger. “Tell that fucker to fuck right off.”

Sid sighs. “I can’t do that and you know why. It just gives him more ammunition, let’s him play the victim card about how we all hate him and that’s why he was traded. He’s a manipulative shit and he’d use that. We just have to hope good influences win out and keep doing what we can to support Olli until they do.”

There are some head nods from around the group; Kuni and Cully, Geno. But there are also faces like Justin’s own, surprised at the way the situation is being discussed. 

“Calisse de tabernak! Well I’m not going to let that fucker get everything his own way!” and Tanger storms off pulling his phone out of his pocket as he goes, already starting to swipe at the screen. 

Sid watches him for a moment, looking worried then shakes his head. 

“Schultzy, what was Harry talking about, about things he’d said to Olli that he shouldn’t have done?” Horny asks. 

Justin starts as the entire Penguins team turns to look at him and he feels his face heating up under their regard. 

“How would I know what was said?” he asks, defensively, but even to his own ears it sounds weak. “And even if I did, I couldn’t share that with you all. We’re team, but that’s not fair to Olli.” 

“Fair,” says Sid. He turns to the team. “You heard the man, we don’t need the entire team acting as an audience here. You’ve got a game tomorrow, go enjoy your evening and get a good night’s sleep. Schultzy, stay here. Cully, Kuni, G, can I have a word please? Horny, can you head up with the team please make sure everyone’s alright with tomorrow’s plans? Cool, thanks guys, you know where to find me if you need me.” 

Sid’s easy assumption that they’ll do what he’s just told them to do makes it hard for anyone to object or not do it. It’s not often he goes full captain on them, so when he does, it’s irresistible. Rusty’s audible complaint of “But it was just getting interesting!” is met with an elbow by Murrs as he shepherds Rusty towards the elevators. 

Sid watches them go in silence before turning his attention to where Harry is talking animatedly, and Olli is listening silently arms folded. Justin would hope that would indicate he’s not really giving Harry another chance, but it almost looks more like Olli is trying to comfort himself than put up a wall. Across the way, Tanger is also watching the pair, still talking on the phone.

Sid sighs. “Tanger’d better not make anything worse,” he says, brows furrowed. 

“He won’t, he’s emotional and impulsive and cares too much but he’s not stupid, mostly,” says Cully. “He does know why we can’t intervene, it just frustrates him not to be able to protect Olli the way he wants to. But hey, it might even be good if Tanger can throw some obstacles in the way.”

“It’s harder for Harry to keep plausibly lying when he’s being thrown curveballs. He lets his feelings show then and there’s no way Olli stays with him if he finally sees Harry truly,” says Kuni reassuringly. “That’s what we’ve been hoping will happen so if Tanger can do something to hurry that…”

“We can hope,” says Sid darkly. He turns to Justin. “So what do you know about what’s going on?”

Justin had been expecting this from the moment he’d been told he couldn’t escape with the rest of the team. It doesn’t make it any easier. 

“I probably shouldn’t tell you this, because I feel like I’m breaking Olli’s trust,” he starts. “But I also don’t think you’re not going to let me not tell you this… ” he looks to the group gathered around him. 

“Exactly so,” says Kuni.

“We don’t want to go diving into Olli’s private life on a whim,” says Sid. “But there’s some bad history between these guys and we knew about it too late before to help, so we don’t want to get blindsided again. Especially not during the playoffs.”

“Olli’s our friend, teammate too,” continues Geno. “We don’t want see him hurt again, sad Olli is very sad.”

Justin swallows. “Ok, so because I was making sure he was ok after the team dinner, I was with him yesterday morning when Harry called.” 

“We’ll accept that as your reason, yes,” mutters Cully. Sid shoots him a reproving look. 

“Cully, you’re not helping. Schultzy, please carry on.” 

“They had a fight. Harry told him he’d pulled in Pittsburgh while Olli’s been in New York...”

“Fucker!” The interruption is from Geno this time, but this time Justin ignores it and keeps going. 

“And then he suggested some stuff that Olli didn’t want to do and said some pretty nasty things about Olli with Olli defending himself and it ended with Olli telling him he had to go and hanging up on him.” Justin’s tried not to get too personal and reveal too much while giving broad outlines. He hopes it’s enough, because he really doesn’t want to say anymore. Even what he has said doesn’t sit comfortably with him. 

There’s silence as the others take this in. 

“And now he’s here, apologising,” says Sid. He looks over to where Olli and Harry are sitting on the couches, but little has changed. “No doubt laying it on thick with Olli to convince him he’s a nice guy and it’s a misunderstanding. Again.” He shakes his head, frustration and worry written all over his face. 

“He’s not going to find it as easy as he hopes,” says Tanger with certainty - and a certain degree of smugness - as he rejoins them. His demeanor is of a lion who has hunted successfully; there’s still a certain ferocity about him, but it’s tempered now by satisfaction. 

“Tanger, what you do?” Geno asks with alarm.

His smugness increases, if anything. “Watch!” 

They don’t have long to wait; one of the smartly dressed hotel staff, with a security guard in tow, approach Olli and Harry. The hotel employee bends over, speaking to Harry and it’s clear from his face, that what he’s hearing isn’t making him happy. His face becomes redder and redder, and he’s replying with anger. Olli is curling away, back into his sofa, but the security guard is interposing, hustling Harry away and towards reception. 

“What’s going on, Tanger?” It’s Sid’s turn to ask. 

“Flower would be so proud of me,” Tanger replies cryptically. “If there’s one thing he always said about his hotel pranks, it was to know which of the front office staff was responsible for arranging hotels, so he could invoke their name if necessary to smooth the way and get out of trouble. And he always insists that I know too, just in case.”

He takes a second to grin at them, but no-one is any the wiser. He shakes his head. 

“Flower would be proud of me. Anyway, Jim Britt’s assistant - Jim organises the hotels for the team - has just made a call to the hotel’s corporate accounts section, explaining that someone who has been stalking one of their Penguins has just checked in, and we would very much appreciate it if unfortunately the hotel would find he’s been double booked and walk him.” 

“Of course once the hotel realised, after Jim’s assistant had explained in detail, that if we didn’t feel safe and secure in their property we might move elsewhere for next year, corporate accounts couldn’t do enough to show they take the safety and security of our team very seriously. Not only are they finding a booking error so they have to cancel his reservation, they’ll bar him from this property at least while we’re here. They even asked if we wanted to involve the cops but I… I mean Jim Britt’s assistant… assured them that wasn’t necessary, we were trying to handle it quietly.” He grins. “It was very tempting though, just to see his face, but would need Olli to co-operate and even if Olli does, would create a massive noise so probably not worth it. This won’t keep him away entirely from Olli, but it will make it more difficult for him to see Olli and gives Olli space where he doesn’t have Harry around.” 

“Fuck, Tanger, that’s pretty clever,” Kuni says slowly, obviously trying to think through all the angles. Tanger is positively beaming now, watching with barely covered glee as Harry continues to argue with the hotel staff, but is removed from the hotel despite his protestations. 

“What if the hotel contacts - who did you say - Jim?” Cully asks. 

“Pretty sure he’ll cover for us; he’ll know we wouldn’t do this lightly, especially since Flower isn’t here,” Tanger replies. “Besides, Sid can always give him a call if needed.” 

“Why me? You can do it yourself!”

“You’re the captain! It carries more weight from you.” It’s said with such utter certainty that Justin almost smiles. 

Sid just shakes his head. “That does not mean I have to clear up your and Flower’s messes for you.” 

“This isn’t a mess! This is a solution,” Tanger replies. 

“What we say to Olli?” Geno asks. Olli’s now slowly leaving the area he’s been seated in; he doesn’t seem to have noticed them watching him. 

“Don’t volunteer it, but if he asks, be truthful about it,” says Kuni with certainty. “And blame Tanger!” He says that with a grin, but surprisingly, Tanger agrees. 

“For sure, tell him it was my doing. He could accept it more from me; even if he doesn’t, better he’s only mad with one of us.”

“He might even welcome it,” Justin volunteers - and then wishes he hasn’t as all five turn to look at him with surprise. 

“Really?” asks Cully. 

“I’m not sure, but I think he finds it easier when Harry isn’t around. Having to deal with Harry…he doesn’t seem to enjoy it that much? He seems more relaxed when Harry isn’t here. And he could have stepped in and said no to the hotel staff and he didn’t. He seemed to let it happen”

Justin wonders if he should tell them about Harry trying to get Olli drunk so he’d agree to things he’s been refusing, but feels like he’d be trampling through Olli’s confidences if he did. It’s just too personal. Besides, Olli had known what Harry was trying to do. It’s just tempting to pass the responsibility for this onto someone else, to get help with it. But that’s about what he wants, not about what Olli wants, so he keeps quiet for now, to think about it some more. 

“That sounds hopeful,” Sid says. “Hmmm, maybe good influences are working.” 

“We hope,” Geno says simply. “I go room now, pointless standing in empty lobby talking like fishwives when everyone else left. Sid, you come?” 

“For sure G, you’re right. Let’s head up.” 

Sid starts moving to the elevators, the rest of them following obediently.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So I had fully intended to end the last chapter on the cliff hanger of Harry appearing in the lobby.. except that chapter just ran too long so I didn't get to do that to you all. And this one would have been too short if I'd ended it there. 
> 
> Of course Harry wasn't going to give up that easily.. quite a few of you guessed that so gold stars for everyone who did.


	58. Idols can have feet of clay

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> There's a lot of talking...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry - later than it should have been but I got stuck for a while. And then this took a bit of an unexpected divergence....

Justin’s not sure whether he should go see Olli, so heads to his own room, figuring he’ll message Olli from there. 

_“Hey babe, you ok?”_

He sees the dots that indicate Olli is answering and waits for the answer to appear… and waits… and waits until eventually his phone starts vibrating instead and Olli’s name is on the display screen. He swipes to answer. 

“It’s all fucked up,” Olli says by way of greeting. He sounds frustrated. 

“Oh, that good then?” Justin responds. At least he’s answered by a snort of laughter. 

“I didn’t think he’d turn up here, apologising for acting like an ass,” Olli continues. “He says.. Well it doesn’t matter exactly what he says, but he’s come up here to show how sorry he is.” 

Justin has to choke back the snort of disgust which threatens and wants to escape. “What do you think?” he manages to get out, sounding vaguely natural. 

Olli sighs. “I don’t know. Like we’ll be back in Pittsburgh by tomorrow night, could it not have waited one more day? But he clearly feels it couldn’t have done and he says it’s because he was missing me so much as well that he went out to find company.” 

“Were you missing him?” Justin can’t remember Olli saying anything about that, at any point. 

There’s a short, thoughtful silence from the other end of the phone. 

“Huh,” Olli says slowly. “That’s a good question. Kind of? But not like I did when he got traded. Hmmm.” 

There’s another silence, and Justin doesn’t push to fill it, let’s Olli think. 

“I think I need to think about that some more,” he continues. “That’s… I hadn’t realised that. But I have said I’ll go out to dinner with him tonight, give him a chance to explain since the hotel removed him rather abruptly. Who was responsible for that?”

“Tanger,” says Justin promptly. “He was really proud of himself. He was trying to give you the space so you didn’t have to deal with it in the hotel.” 

“I thought it might have been Tanger,” Olli replies and there’s a note of fondness in his voice. “He really shouldn’t have, Harry was livid, is livid. But Tanger… “

“Yeah, he’s like having a grumpy, overprotective lion looking out for you,” Justin says. 

Olli giggles. “I was going to say like a big brother actually! But yeah, I can see your analogy too. Anyway I was also going to say, since I’m meeting Harry, go and enjoy dinner with the team.”

“Ok, I will babe,” Justin hesitates. It’s not his place but… “Will you do me a favour and not drink tonight? It’s not that I don’t trust you…. And you showed you could look out for yourself. But I’d be less worried.” 

He wishes he could see Olli’s face, to see if he’s overstepped or not. 

“Yeah, game tomorrow, I think I’ve learned that lesson already,” Olli says ruefully. “I’ll see you at breakfast. Not hungover!”

It’s a dismissal, but Justin so wants to ask Olli to tell him when he returns this evening. But he can’t. 

“If things don’t go as you expect tonight, and you need anything, just let me know. I don’t care when it is; I’m not playing tomorrow.”

“I’ll be fine, kulta, honestly. Now go have a good evening!”

0--0--0

“Is Olli mad?” Tanger asks when he sees Justin in the hall outside the team’s dining room. 

“No, Harry is apparently but Olli seemed ok about it,” Justin replies as they walk in together. It seems natural to find a table together too. “But he’s meeting Harry for dinner tonight instead.” 

Tanger looks interested. “Do you know where? When? We could always phone and cancel the reservation if he’s even bothered to make any!” 

“Just because one thing Flower has taught you worked well, doesn’t mean you get to do the rest too,” replies Kuni settling beside them, Cully with him. “How’s Olli ever going to learn about Harry if you always intervene? We’ve talked about this.”

Tanger rolls his eyes at Kuni, pinching his fingers together like yapping hands. “So you say!”

But he leaves it there, doesn’t argue his corner. 

“Did Flower do that?” Justin asks. “Cancel someone’s reservation?”

“Ask Duper about it sometime,” Kuni replies with a grin. “It was Duper’s wedding anniversary, he’d arranged a babysitter and everything. Duper was ready to murder him. Flower’s also told restaurants it’s guys’ birthdays when it isn’t, he’s told them they have weird diets. We’ve learned never to let Flower know where we’re going for dinner if he’s not going to be there. Just safer all around. Removes temptation.”

“Maybe that’s why Olli didn’t say,” replies Justin. 

“Not say what?” Geno asks sitting down next to them, Sid moving to go opposite, trays piled high with food. With a start, Justin realises he’s kind of surrounded by the core; it’s not who he usually sits with, but they’ve chosen to sit with him. He shouldn’t be nervous, they’re just guys on his hockey team. That’s all. Even if they’re some of the best players in the world. 

Kuni explains quickly to Geno. 

“Oh yeah,” says Sid. “That’s standard now. If we’re having a date night, Flower never finds out where.” 

“Or we say somewhere else,” Geno continues. “If we eat in Sewickley, we say downtown.”

“He can’t even be mad at us for that that,” Sid says. “Why should he care where we actually eat if we tell him someplace different? Unless he’s tried to set us up for something. It seems to be working, he’s been less interested lately.” 

Duper slides onto the table with them, taking the last seat. “Who’s been less interested?”

Kuni sighs. “It would be so much easier to talk if you all didn’t want to know what everyone else has been saying when you arrive!” But he relents and explains - even more briefly. 

“Misdirection?” hmms Duper. “That’s a good one, never tried that. Now we just have to bribe the kids to secrecy and refuse to tell him.” 

“He asks the kids?” Kuni says, horrified. 

“Asks? They know better than that. I understand the current going rate is fifteen bucks from him, so twenty bucks from us. They’ve established a cartel too, where any cash gets pooled and shared. No undercutting each other on pain of retribution.” He grins. “But it would be such a shame if Flower paid the kids only to find out the information was wrong. We might be able to negotiate a lower rate on the grounds they’ll also be able to get Flower’s money.”

There’s a chuckle around the table at that. 

“I’m obviously going to have to warn mine about Flower,” says Kuni thoughtfully. “I hope he tries it with Payton. She may be only five, but that girl already drives the hardest of bargains. I bet he’ll think she’s a softer touch than her big brother.”

“Get the cartel system going early,” Duper warns. “Otherwise he’ll play one off against the other. Also teaches them the benefit of working together, so it’s good for them too. Although, when they turn it on us, it’s not so good.”

“This is why Flower hates being out injured,” Tanger observes. “It’s not just about not playing, it’s that we get to compare notes, easily, without him here to supervise.”

“Well, make the most of it,” Sid says. “He’s skating again, probably not far off playing.” 

The mood lightens around the table at that; Justin wonders what it will mean for Murrs, playing out of his skin to give his team a chance in the series. At the same time, having Flower back will lift the team, just by Flower being Flower. It’s not practice unless he’s chirping at them every time they miss or score, mocking for their skating skills - or according to him - the lack thereof. Being compared to a three-legged hippo on skates certainly encourages improvement and attention to detail. 

“Probably back next series. Typical Flower, come back after we do the work!” says Geno. 

“Still got to get through the Rangers,” Sid mutters. “One game at a time, one series at a time. You know what happened when we forgot that.”

Tanger makes a scoffing sound, glances around the room with care, leaning forward to speak more quietly. “They don’t have MSL this time and no-one’s mother is dying on their team.”

“But we can’t get complacent, we can’t underestimate them!” Sid speaks more urgently. “It’s not done until the buzzer goes at the end of the fourth game we win. They can always come back and we can’t forget that. We’ve had the playoff runs when we felt good going in and thought how we felt was all that mattered. We can’t do that again. We know what it feels like and it sucks.”

“Look, we’ve played well so far, but we can’t afford to let up or to start thinking it’s in the bag. We need all of us, playing at the top of our game, and not letting things slide. None of us are getting younger; this could be our best chance to get another Cup.” 

Sid’s brow is creased with concern and his face is anxious and tight. He’s stabbing his forefinger at Tanger to emphasise his points and Justin realises he’s seeing behind Sid’s confident captain persona to a glimpse of his real fears and worries. 

“We won’t let up,” replies Kuni. “We’ve got a good young team who won’t get complacent, they’re too excited to just be here. You’re really right, we’ve” and he gestured around the group, “learned that lesson the hard way and we know it - even Tanger! And Sully’s good, he stay on us all. There’s no way he lets us let up, he doesn’t let anything slide. But we can also do this, we’re in a good place with the Rangers, we just have to keep doing what we do best.”

He keeps talking reassuringly, the others joining in as well, and Sid’s anxiety starts to ease from his face as he listens. 

Justin still isn’t used to being on the same team as Sid; he’s just tried not to think too much about it. He’d been at school when Sid had burst into the NHL and just at the age when he’d been starting to hope and wonder if he’d be good enough to play in the NHL one day. So he’d day-dreamed about playing alongside Sid, dazzling him with Justin’s own play, but a part of him hadn’t ever really thought it would ever happen. It was a day dream, and they don’t come true. 

But he is here now, sitting having dinner with Sid like an equal (and internally there are bits of him which are both elated and terrified by that thought) and he’s seeing the reality, that his teenage idol isn’t perfect. As he’d got to know Sid better, he’d realised that of course Sid was a guy - seeing him in the locker room does that - but now he’s had it confirmed that Sid has fears and worries just like Justin does. Like a normal person. 

It feels like it should diminish Sid somehow to see he’s a normal human and not some kind of perfect hockey god. But somehow it makes what he does on the ice and with the team even more impressive; that he can do all that with a normal person’s fears and imperfections as well. He can pick the team up and carry them, forcing them to follow where he leads by dint of force of skill and personality and refusal to give up, never showing doubt or uncertainty on the ice. That doesn’t mean he doesn’t have any though. 

He gets snapped back to the present and the table by Cully touching his shoulder. 

“You seemed far away,” he says. 

“Yeah, sorry, got lost in my thoughts,” Justin replied. 

Cully quirks an eyebrow at him. “What’s up?”

“Nothing’s up.” He glances around but everyone else is paying attention to Kuni and Sid. “It’s just - realising that Sid gets worried about the playoffs too. I kind of didn’t expect that.”

Cully’s smile is a knowing crinkle. “Different to see the greats of the game close up,” he says. 

“It is. I mean it’s amazing, like I’m playing alongside Sid. I used to dream about doing that! But I never thought he’d have ordinary concerns and worries about hockey like the rest of us. He’s on a different plane but still worries about not taking thing seriously enough.”

“For all he’s a great player, he’s still just a person. Of course he does.”

“Yeah, but he’s talking about them. Like it’s normal or something.”

Cully looks at him. “Justin, it is normal. It’s good to be able to do that. No-one’s going to judge him for doing that - he’ll be stronger because he can do that, tell the team what his worries are. We can support him if he does that. It’s something I hope we can all do and it’s good for Sid to be able to do that.”

“No, no, I didn’t mean that,” Justin protests, worried Cully thinks he’s called Sid weak. “I think it makes him even more amazing for being able to do what he does when he has worries like a normal person, but can still do all that on the ice and never lets any of this show out there. I can see how it’s good he can do that. I’m just surprised though.”

“I mean you played alongside McDavid too.”

“Yeah but I never saw him admit to any doubts. I mean he was up there and I was down here so there was a lot of distance between us, so maybe he did, but I never saw it. Even when he got pissed or frustrated because of stuff around him, it was kind of frowned upon. Like management expected him to be nothing less than controlled at all times.”

Cully looks alarmed at that. “That’s surprising, for sure. No-one can keep everything bottled up all the time and everyone can get feelings of doubt and worries. We all have to be able to talk about them with the people around us or what’s the point of team? But maybe he had other guys on the team he could go to.”

“Maybe,” says Justin doubtfully. “I mean I hope so for his sake, but Connor seemed too be trying to be everything everyone expected him to be all the time.”

Cully winces when he hears that. 

“McDavid?” Sid asks. It seems his own conversation has ended, he’s looking much more calm now and he’s caught what Justin was saying. “He’ll find he can’t do that and it will break him if he tries. You can’t be everything to everyone. It’s a really important lesson to learn and I hope someone is there to tell him repeatedly. When you’re young, you think you can.”

“Just because I don’t know about it, doesn’t mean it isn’t happening,” Justin says. 

“True,” says Sid. “I mean, we had Mario to pass that onto us but he didn’t often do it publicly. Benefits of staying with him. That didn’t stop the guys in the room though. Billy G, Rex, Flower, then these guys… they all had a part in helping me understand that. Even some of the crap going on. It wasn’t good to go through but it demonstrated that very well. But it was hard. But if you don’t have the folks around you telling you that then you’ll believe in all the bullshit nonsense and you’ll break yourself up into tiny pieces trying to satisfy everyone. And that’s harder and really bad in the long term.”

“See, you show you know this, but still you try to do it all!” The way Geno says it makes it sound like a well-rehearsed complaint 

Surprisingly, Sid grins, his face taking on a mischievous cast. 

“If only my A’s were as diligent doing media, I wouldn’t have to do so much!”

“Hey!” complains Kuni. “I’ve never sprinted out the room saying ‘Sorry Jen, English too hard today, Sid will do!”

“That was once!” Geno sounds defensive. 

“Twice,” say Sid and Tanger simultaneously. 

"This season," laughs Duper. 

“English is confusing!” Geno replies with a sly grin. Justin barks out a surprised laugh at that. Sid just shakes his head. 

“The point is,” Sid continues…

“There is a point?” Duper interjects, laughing. 

“Of course! If you’d just let me get to it… what was it again?... oh yeah the point is team. Like for someone like McDavid, he has to be honest with his team and not try to keep up the facade of being perfect. It’s bullshit and fake because that isn’t him because no-one is perfect and ultimately, it’s not good for him. Being able to talk to someone on the team, not being afraid to talk if there is something worrying you, or wrong, that’s all really important. Everyone needs it, no matter who they are.” Sid is heartfelt about that and his sincerity calms the table; there’s a series of nods from those assembled. “It’s hard sometimes, especially if you’ve come from a difficult situation or a hard trade to be able to do that. It’s probably been hard for you, finding a place in the team and learning to trust us. It’s great you and Olli have hit it off. But never forget you’ve got the rest of us too if you need us.”

Justin has to look away and swallow; the gentle conviction and understanding in Sid’s voice is almost too much. 

“I understand,” he replies, trying not to let them see how much that has affected him. “And a whole bunch of guys have been great. Cully, Tanger, Colesy, the D, the other guys who got traded, even Shears! It’s not been what I expected, but it’s been really great. I’ve felt so accepted.”

“Good,” replies Sid. 

There’s a brief silence while the group try to figure out how to move beyond this. 

“And I promise not to take the Rangers for granted or get ahead of the play-offs. One game at a time!” Justin says it fervently, but with a grin on his face. There’s a burst of laughter around the table at that. 

“Good, make sure you don’t!” snaps Sid but he’s grinning too. 

0–0–0

It's given him a lot to mull over he realises once back in his room. Another set of preconceptions over-turned. This team seems to be good at that. But that keeps his mind off of the fact there’s nothing from Olli on his phone that night when he gets back to his room. So he forces himself to go through his normal routine for the night before a game. Ok, he maybe sneaks glances at his phone more often than normal but he manages to fight the temptation to message Olli to see how he’s doing; it feels too much like checking up though. He’s just going to have to wait until breakfast to find out what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So bored without hockey! we need it back soon.


End file.
